


It Will Heal

by gloriousrumpoflife



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Child Death, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, Family Feels, Gen, Human Trafficking, Jae-ha's conflicted feelings about his abuser: the story, Kidnapping, Mental Instability, Mild Gore, Original characters that are there just for plot I Swear, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Rating May Change, Sexual Content, Slow Build, So many family feels, Trauma, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, young jae-ha has a lot of panic attacks ngl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 62,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3926692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloriousrumpoflife/pseuds/gloriousrumpoflife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was twelve years old when he finally ran away. All he had for himself were the tattered clothes on his back, the broken chains attached to his wrists, and the memories of a most torturous hell - one that had brought him both happiness and misery. He was twelve years old when he drowned, rescued by a woman who he couldn't trust. All he had for her was a dragon's leg, the cursed fate of a monster, and the desperation of a child. He was twelve years old when he began to learn what happiness truly was, and twenty-five when he finally met the one person he had hoped to avoid. All he had for her was reluctance, love, and a healed heart.</p><p>OR: Jae-ha's life with Gigan, starting from the day he left his village to the day Yona entered his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fly

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter owes it's title to "Fly" by Ludovico Einaudi. Please listen to the song while reading this chapter.

He was free.

The sun seared his eyes, forcing him to squint just to see, and he was free.  The wind curved around him, biting at the wounds on his face that would heal in a few days’ time, and he was free.  Birds, white and gray in color, flew past him, not bothered by the human sharing the skies with them, and he was free.

He was free.

_He was free._

And Garou was dead.

Jae-ha made his landing through the treetops.  Branches snapped and scratched at him, but it was nothing in comparison to what he had known for all twelve years of his life.  His pant leg, however, did catch, and he was crudely thrown to the ground.  Yeah.  He would have to work on that landing.  Sitting up on the forest floor, he took the moment to breathe.  He was free.  Surely, nobody could be following him anymore.  Surely, they were distracted enough by Garou’s body—

 _No_.  Don’t think about that.

“Should stay low for a while, I guess,” Jae-ha muttered to himself.  He wiped sweat from his brow and tried to ignore the way the cut on his bottom lip screamed with every hurried inhale and quick exhale.  It would heal in a few days.  He would be fine in a few days.

(And Garou would be ashes by morning.)

His dragon foot throbbed, urging to be used, desperate for the world only it could reach.  Jae-ha threw his shoe off with a slight kick, revealing his monstrous appendage to whatever forest spirits might be watching.  It was almost fascinating, how well the green scales of his foot matched the grass below him and the leaves above him.  It was as if his entire being, cursed as it was by the dragon blood, was made to be grounded.  Like the chains still stuck to his wrists were made not as punishment, but as a reminder.

Hah!  Who was he kidding?  The green dragon warrior was made for the skies.  He was made to reach farther than any human could.  That, at least, Jae-ha could gladly do.  Destiny be damned, but he could most certainly use his dragon’s power to its fullest.  He would fly high, farther and faster than any pursuer.  He would know the clouds, be their lover and most trusted confidant.  He would reach the places not even attainable to Garou (who had looked so damn happy to give Jae-ha everything he had ever wanted).

Damn it.  He needed to stop thinking about him.  Misery and guilt would take him nowhere.  Jae-ha had to live the life _he_ wanted.  There was no use in looking back.

Jae-ha tossed off his other shoe and stood up.  The grass beneath his feet tickled, like how he imagined a mother’s delicate fingers might feel against his skin.  A small bug—an ant, probably?—crawled up his human foot, thin antennas twitching as it inspected his little toe.  He lifted his leg to bring the ant to closer inspection, but when he reached out a finger to pick it up, the insect scurried away, leaving a red mark on his toe.  Ah, that made sense.  Garou had always said that animals were more afraid of humans than humans were of animals.

Jae-ha placed his foot back on the ground and, using his hand, led the ant back into the grass.  It would be bad if he accidentally kicked it off while he walked.  Surely, such a small body couldn’t handle much.  He picked up his shoes, allowing them to dangle from his hand, and moved on forward, through clusters of trees and over mounds of things he had never seen nor heard of before.  There was pain in his cheek, swollen with its many bruises, and when he inspected it with his fingers, he realized there was a smile on his lips.  Heh.  Freedom was truly beautiful.  He thought he must look like an idiot, walking through the forest, grinning, covered in blacks and blues and reds.

But freedom was wonderful.  It was so wonderful.

* * *

 

His stomach was rumbling.  His throat was rebelling, and he had not a drop of spit left to quench it.  The sun was rising, dusting pinks and oranges into the dreary blue sky.  His human foot ached while his dragon foot wailed.  The birds, whiter than he thought possible, dared to run into him more times than he could bother to count.  Freedom was surprisingly agonizing.  But he had to move on.  _He had to move on_.

Perhaps he should have tried harder to kill those fat animals—boars, probably, but he had only ever seen them before in his imagination, given to him by Garou’s half-assed descriptions.  They had weirdly pointed noses and some fur, though, so they were most likely boars.  Either way, Jae-ha should have chased them for much longer than he actually did.  He also shouldn’t have spared those rabbits, with their stupidly big eyes and cute faces.  They were easy food, unable to escape from someone who could attack from above.  But, alas, he had watched them hop away when he had decided to not crush their skulls in with the chains on his wrists.

Freedom was certainly difficult.

Yet another bird flew into him, so Jae-ha made another terrible landing.  His feet stumbled, barely able to carry him any longer, and he fell to his side in no time at all.  It was official, he hated birds.  Bunch of blind bastards.  Were they trying to pick a fight with him?  It certainly wasn’t fair if they were!  He didn’t have wings to keep him aloft like they did, so the chances were definitely weighed against him.  Jerks.

Jae-ha rolled onto his back.  The sky above him was cloudless, taunting him with its beauty.  The ground below him was rough, covered in grass but underlain by rocks.  The air was a bit thinner than usual, but it smelled hot and… salty?  Maybe?  It was peculiar.  But it was nice, in a fascinatingly new sort of way.  Hopefully, he was near some place, a town or a village, where he could steal food and water.  It had only been a day since he had escaped, but he would like to sleep somewhere that wasn’t the ground, as well.  In the books he had read in Ryokuryuu village, he had learned from those crinkled, ages-old pages that wherever there was food and people, there was an inn for travelers.  He could sneak into one of those, probably.

Before he could do all that, though, he needed to rest.  He closed his eyes to the rising sun, to the singing birds and the whispering wind, and he dreamed of nothing but the tear-streaked face of a man.  If he actually slept, Jae-ha wasn’t sure, but when he forced his sluggish eyelids open again, there were pieces of meat and balls of rice proudly presented on a large leaf beside him and a water sack rested on his stomach.

Was this a hallucination?  Probably.  Did he care?  Not in the slightest.

Without a second to waste, he stuffed the rice in his mouth, rushing after it several happy swigs of water.  The meat he tore to pieces with his sharp teeth, barely taking a moment to appreciate its rich taste.  He finished it all before the last streaks of the orange, dawn sky could fade away into the blue morning.  Perhaps he should have saved some, especially the water, but he didn’t care.  With this, he could fly!  He could keep going and find some place, or something, to keep him alive.  All he had to do was jump.

His stomach gurgled a song.  Chuckling to himself, he stood up, dropping the sack and the leaf.  He turned to the upward slope of the mountain he had presumably landed on, and prepared to fly.  Freedom was great, no matter how arduous.

Before his foot could dare to leave the ground, though, his consciousness twitched.  Yellow.  Warm and welcoming, it reached to him, enveloping him like how the sun gobbled the moon.  It was strangely familiar, like a dream that had burned its fragments into his memory, yet distant, like the soul of someone loved and gone.  It called to him.  It loved him.  It was like Garou’s Green glow, but it was so intrinsically different.  It was its own being, but it was attached to Jae-ha the same way he had been to Garou.  Someone, or something, was nearby.  Jae-ha took a step towards the Yellow glow.  It disappeared, as ghostly as it had appeared.

His heart stilled itself, taking several shaky breaths before it could beat again.  His mind was certainly playing tricks on him.  As if anything, or anyone, could want him the way the Yellow glow did.  He was a monster, after all.  He looked down at the leaf and the water sack, and decided they had definitely been illusions, as well.  Even with his throat quenched and his stomach full, they could not be real.

He returned his attention to the high mountain slope.  Taking a deep breath, he jumped away, returning himself to the morning blue sky.  This was where he belonged.  Not with a ghostly Yellow glow, nor with hallucinations of kindness.  He ignored the chill on his back, as though he had just left behind something terribly important, and he continued to fly.  He knocked down a few birds on his way, as well, just for the fun of it.  Served them right!

Below him, the mountain soon turned into rooftops.  A city!  It was lined so nicely with streets and houses, much like the books had described.  The people were few, as were the animals, but he could hear the trickles of early morning conversation.  He couldn’t hear the words, of course, but vocals and mumbles drifted on the wind, tickling his ears with joy.  Jae-ha glided down to the ground, but was quick to jump again.  His eyes needed to feast on so much more!  An inn, food, water—it could all wait for the view of a city, spectacular in its very existence.  He jumped on and over rooftops, watching every gravel street and each tired person.  They were amazing.  It was all beautiful.  The air was warm and (maybe) salty and something a little putrid, but it tasted so wonderfully on his tongue he couldn’t help but laugh.  He was free!  He was free!  It was indescribable, this marvelous freedom.

He was free!

And the city was ocean.

Before he could process that he had flown too far, that the city had given way to the harbor, he was falling with nowhere to land.  There was a ship floating on the water, but all he could do was reach for it, hopelessly, as he sunk without legs that knew how to swim.  Salt and something putrid flooded his mouth, his nostrils, his ears, his eyes, clutching his lungs and dragging his clothes.  He flailed his arms and his legs, hoping to find a way.  But the water was merciless, and his body needed air, and he was already too far away to be seen or heard (or cared for).  Sunlight filtered through the water, and somehow it was worse than Garou wringing his neck with hands that had broken so many bones.  It was worse than a mother’s desperate cry or a father’s angry stare.  It was the end.  Clouds of bubbles escaped him, his lungs screeching with despair, but his legs couldn’t kick him up, useless as they were in the water.  He couldn’t reach the sunlight.

He should have known.  Freedom did not come so easy to monsters.  All the dragon warriors had to die, sooner or later.

The last thing Jae-ha saw was the water shifting into bubbles and ripples as someone, or something, splashed in after him.  The last thing Jae-ha felt were arms, strong and warm, wrapped around him.


	2. Locked in a Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The earliest memory Jae-ha had was when he was three years old, and all he knew was Garou.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Locked in a room that is nothing but walls  
> And you search for a chair,  
> But there’s nothing at all  
> And the one thing you find when you look at the floor  
> Is a key  
> But there isn’t a door  
> \- “Locked in a Room” by Oren Lavie

The earliest memory Jae-ha could recall was Garou.  It was a hot day, and the sky was bright outside the hut, and  _Garou_ was not the man, not his predecessor, but the quintessence of his name.  Jae-ha was only several seasons old at the time, old enough to talk and walk, but far from being an adult, so all that he knew was the one person who talked to him and walked with him.  Garou—the oppressively warm air inside the hut, the beads of perspiration fighting against it from Jae-ha’s skin.   Garou—the laughs of children and the whispers of adults in the village.  Garou—the cracks in the dry mud keeping the stone walls of his home together.  Garou—the cobwebs in the corner, the crackling fragility of paper in books so old their words were fading, the pit in Jae-ha’s stomach that he could never quite fill.

Garou—the shackles fastened a bit loosely to his wrists and ankles.  They were made for someone at least twice Jae-ha’s size, but no readjustments could be made, so Jae-ha just sat on the threadbare mat, able to escape but never choosing to, because the villagers had arrows and arrows were bad and bad things hurt you.  If he wanted to be free, and not be hurt, all he had to do was wait for Garou.  That name was freedom as much as it was life.

Garou, the man, his predecessor, returned to the hut just as the village outside was becoming rowdy for the morning.  In his hand was a bowl somewhat smaller than Garou’s head (Jae-ha could vaguely remember wearing it sometimes as a hat, and laugher would fill their tiny house, and Garou’s smile was so nice).  Soup sloshed within it, herbs peaking from the brim.  It smelled terrible, but Jae-ha’s stomach grumbled at the sight of it.  Garou closed the old wooden door and then sat on his knees in front of Jae-ha, placing the bowl on the dusty floor.

“Hungry, huh?” Garou asked without a smile.  He reached for an old, cracked pot resting against the wall and pulled it toward himself.  He stuck his hand into the opening and pulled out a key that was rusted along its skinny spine.  “Wonder if that old asshole will ever notice that I stole this,” Garou muttered to the pot before placing it next to his knees.  With a motion of his fingers, he signaled for Jae-ha to reach out his hands and feet, which he promptly did.  Garou snuck the key into the lock on Jae-ha’s left wrist and then one—two—three—four, all the shackles were off.  The chains rolled to the ground and Jae-ha stood up, completely unrestrained. “At’ta boy.  Go grab your spoon before the food gets any colder.  It took me forever to convince those bastards to give us our share of the morning food.”

Jae-ha nodded and rushed over to the other side of the hut. A wash basin rested on the floor, atop its own threadbare mat, beside a tiny stack of scrolls and books that Ryokuryuus over time had gathered for themselves.  Most of them had long since disappeared to dust, since the dragon lineage lasted to a huge number Jae-ha couldn’t count to (2,000, as he would later learn in life).  What remained was from men he could, in all technicality, call his great--multiplied by twenty--grandfathers.  In the wash basin was his spoon, which he grabbed from the water that Garou would have to go to the well to replenish soon, and wiped it off with the ends of his shirt. When it was all done, he hurried back over to Garou, who watched him without a trace of light in his eyes.

“Got it!” he announced, holding up his wooden spoon with great triumph.

Garou lolled his head to the side.  He rested his cheek in his hand, his messy and long bangs draping along his pronounced cheekbones.  Jae-ha always thought he looked like a skeleton with too much skin.  He was pretty, though, when he smiled.  “Go ahead and eat, then” Garou said.

Jae-ha plopped down on his knees.  “Thanks for the food!” he exclaimed, patting Garou’s knee so he knew he was the one being thanked.  Garou brushed his little hand off, so Jae-ha took a spoonful of soup and drank it with a struggle of a swallow.  It tasted as terribly as it smelled.  Like soil baked by the sun.  But the Ryokuryuu weren’t allowed to cook for themselves.  Too dangerous, apparently.  They had to rely on the village’s share of morning food and evening meal, and the village chief, a man with no tongue according to Garou, did all the cooking. So, Jae-ha had to force himself to swallow the soil baked by the sun and turned into soup, but he wouldn’t complain.  Garou had gone through so much trouble, after all.

Ah, wait.  “Garou won’t eat?”  He stared up at Garou, who clicked his tongue, boring his gaze into the wall where the pot had come from.

“You’re the reason I’m going to die, anyway, so I might as well make sure you eat well,” Garou replied.

Jae-ha stared down into his soup, watching the blades of herbs float around in the brown broth.  “Don’t leave.”  He would be lonely, if he had to live in the tiny hut alone.  Garou was freedom and life.  He couldn’t lose that.

Garou slapped the back of his head.  It didn’t hurt, not really, but for a moment Jae-ha thought he was about to drown his face in sunbaked soil soup.  Not exactly a pleasant thought.  But, luckily, he sprung back in time and saved himself from a true hell on earth.

“Just eat,” Garou grumbled.  Jae-ha clasped his hands around the bowl of soup and held up it up to Garou’s mouth.

“Eat,” he commanded.

He would never understand the look in Garou’s eyes at that moment.  His mouth was open, as wide as his eyelids, but there was something in his gaze that Jae-ha would never see again in another person.  Emptiness was the best word to describe it, like a never ending hole. But there was an element of surprise, as well, and, perhaps, a sliver of light.  It was despair and it was hope.  It was Garou.  And it was frightening.

But he took the bowl, anyway, and held it up to his lips. Jae-ha kept his arms up as Garou tipped his head back and took two large gulps of the soup.  He returned the bowl with a harsh cough.

“Gah, that tastes like shit!” Garou cursed.

Jae-ha placed the bowl back on the ground and stood up. With Garou kneeling, they were almost at eye level.  He slapped his hands over Garou’s hallowed cheeks, over the grime he never bothered to wash off, and pushed against the taut skin.  “You have to eat!”

Garou met his eyes for a long while before he shyly looked down at Jae-ha’s chest.  “Yeah, yeah. I will.”  He picked up Jae-ha’s little hands in his large fingers.  “But you need to eat more, so eat.  I’ll have what you leave, okay?”

He didn’t like the deal, but it was good enough.  Anything to make sure Garou didn’t leave.  “Okay!” Jae-ha chirped.  He sat down on his butt and hurried to consume some more of his soup. It still tasted like soil baked by the sun, but it was nicer.  His life was nice.  Garou was nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear these chapters will get longer soon. I'm kinda surprised I didn't take two weeks to update like I usually do, but this was another short chapter & I couldn't get it off my mind, so here we are. As always, comments & critiques are super appreciated!


	3. Keep the Streets Empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beggars are bad for business and messed up children are difficult to adopt. Warnings for a mention of body horror & slavery, some crude language, and the fact that this is my first time writing someone who is in the beginning stages of recovery from years of abuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A lot of hope in a one man tent  
> There's no room for innocence  
> Take me home before the storm  
> Velvet mites will keep us warm"  
> \- Keep the Streets Empty for Me, by Fever Ray. Please give the song a listen ^.^ The lyrics were more of an inspiration than the general mood of the song, but, y'know, still a good listen.

_……………………………………………………………… ( **open your eyes** )_

  Nothing except the walls made of wood boards.

_(………what happened_

_where am i — whoami whoami whoami — **you are jae-ha**_

_rise rise rise rise rise rise rise)_

The boy sat up, nothing more than a specter in the world.  A wisp of smoke in the body of a twelve-year old human.

_( **breathe** )_

The boy opened his mouth.  His lungs opened up, searching for air.  Not a drop of breath was drawn.  _(oh, gods, not like this notlike this notlikethis notlitheklre_ _PLEASE NOT LIKE THIS)_ Another attempt.  Another nothing.  _(ohgodsohgodsohgodsohgodsohgodsohgodsohsgstodohgods_ )  Another attempt.  Finally.  Air.

And he came back down to earth, gasping like an animal floundering for escape.  His heart raced, raced, raced, and he thought he could scream if it weren’t for the screeching ache in his throat.  He burned, gods, everything about him burned, from his skin down to his lungs, but as soon as his eyes snapped to the wooden boards in the walls and roof, to the mat he sat on, to the red blanket covering him, and his nose found the stench of salt and something putrid, of the dust tickling his nostrils, and his ears caught the sound of strange birds screaming, he knew he was alive.  He was alive, damn it.  HE WAS ALIVE.

“Finally awake, I see.”

The voice that spoke reminded him of the village Elder — it had a creak in it, like decaying wood when pushed.  But it didn’t belong to that ragged bastard of a man.  It was warm and distant, like a promise of the Yellow glow, just so much more _material_.  Jae-ha turned his head and saw a woman dressed in a purple changshan, her powder gray hair tied up tightly in a high bun.  Her eyes were iron, forcing him to stay in place.  She walked over to him, an unlit pipe (a _kiseru_ , if he remembered correctly)in her hand, and she took a knee in front of him.

“My name is Gigan.  I’m the captain of this ship,” she said.  She spoke strangely, with patience and sincerity, but it didn’t match with her sharp, vaulting cheekbones or her pointed jaw.

“Captain?” he repeated.

She gave a sharp nod.  Ah, she must be the thing that had dived in after him.  He must be on the ship he had seen before he had sunk.  “Who are you? You came and fell from the sky,” she said.

“…Jae-ha,” he answered.

Gigan hummed, low and contemplative.  She pinned her eyes to Jae-ha’s face, much the same way he had seen those stupid birds do when they had spotted him.  She reached up a hand.  He flinched.  She backed away.

“And whose slave are you, Jae-ha?” Gigan asked.

“S-slave?!”  What a stupid question!  He was nobody’s slave!  No one else would _ever_ be able to chain him down again.

Gigan nodded once more.  She grabbed his arm in a calm, but unrelenting, grip and held it up.  Shockingly, he noticed that his skin was bare — no chains, no clothes.  A quick look down revealed that he was, in fact, stripped down to nothing but his undergarments.  Oh.  Well, that was a bit awkward.  At least his legs were covered by the blanket.

“If we kept you in your clothes, you would be sick by now,” Gigan informed him.  “One of my men jimmied the locks on your shackles.  Those chains are at the bottom of the ocean by now.”  He heard the pipe be placed on the ground before her other hand appeared.  Her fingers curled around his, her thumb pressed to his knuckle, and she guided him to turn the inside of his arm to himself.  He was forced to see the scars — the reddish-brown crusty ring around his wrist, from where his shackles had become too tight; the rapid zigzag down his forearm, pink but barely noticeable, because Garou was terrible at stitching together skin after bone had broken through it.  “I promise that we won’t return you to your master.  If you tell us who did this to you, we will make sure they will be brought down.”

The villagers appeared in his mind.  Their green hair, ranging from bright to grossly muddled, and their arrows, sharper than a slap.  Their hateful eyes and their finely tuned bows.  Their hands caked in the blood of Garou.  They were all guilty, each and every one of them, those disgusting children and their suicidal mothers and their vengeful fathers.  Just a few words and directions, and they would be brought down.

No, what was he thinking?  He couldn’t remember his way back to Ryokuryuu village — he had ran so aimlessly, after all.  He would have to wait for his successor to be born if he wanted to lead anyone there, but there was no way he would ever want to return.  He had put it all behind him the moment he took his first leap of freedom.  There was no point in bringing bloodshed to a place of memories.

“I’m not a slave,” Jae-ha eventually said.  He tugged his arm back and Gigan released it.  “I never was.”

“Then who did this to you?” she immediately responded.

“Nobody who is important anymore.”

“What about your leg?”

“What?!”  Wait, shit, _of course_ she knew.  He wasn’t exactly awake when his pants got pulled!  He couldn’t have possibly hid that particular shame of his.  Before he could scramble away from the woman who officially knew too much, Gigan was tugging the blanket from his legs and revealing the shimmering, green dragon scales that reached from the tip of his toes to just below his knee.  He stilled.  She placed soft, wrinkled hands on his calf and lifted his shame, silent and tender in her actions.  There was no trace of disgust in her features, and for a moment, he almost believed he was being revered — what a stupid thought.

His foot was such an ugly thing.  Monstrous, like a living nightmare.  It was dangerous, as well.  She knew, so what would she do?  Would she take him as her own and show him off as some grand prize?  Would she force him to do things he never wanted to do in trade for not revealing his secret?  Would she challenge men ten times greater and stronger than him, simply because she had a dragon warrior in her clutches?  Regardless of what may happen, he hated her.  She may have saved his life, but that changed nothing.  She didn’t have the right to save him.  She didn’t have the right to know the truth.

“What did they do?  Stitch snake skin into your leg?” Gigan wondered aloud.  She tilted her head, inspecting his leg.  “You don’t want to take revenge on them for this?”

A curious thumb stroked a cluster of his scales and, without a second thought, he kicked her shoulder.  She fell back, clutching her injury, her iron eyes full of surprise and wrath.  Jae-ha did the only thing he could do, he _ran_.  He ran out of the tiny room she had trapped him in.  He ran onto the deck, saw his clothes hanging on a line drawn between two masts, his shoes set nicely beneath his pants, and he ran to cover himself.  Gigan appeared at the door, holding her shoulder, teeth clenched, eyelids narrowed.  Somehow, she appeared so much larger, so much more brutal, even as she took careful steps towards him. 

“What do you think you’re doing?!” she shouted.  “I’m trying to help you!”

Help was beyond him.  “Fuck off, Old Lady!” Jae-ha screamed as he pulled on his shirt, his damp pants sticking to his skin, his soggy shoes penetrating every scale and pore of his feet.  He needed nobody.  They would only ever betray him.

She took another step towards him and he jumped, flying high over harbor, houses, horses, and humans, and he didn’t regret a thing.  Nobody, not even his saviors, would ever hold him down again.

 

* * *

 

In the books he had read, cities were lively places.  At night, there were parties, and in the day, there were parades.  Sometimes the places were corrupt, hiding some slow-spreading darkness, and it would be up to one man to save the people, who never seemed to be able to fight for themselves.  Cities had history, as well.  They were founded by men with forgettable names and there was usually someone or some group who opposed the city’s growth.  Sometimes there was diplomacy, most times there was blood.  Cities were full of people, their families and their friends, and everyone wanted for nothing.  Only a handful of them would be remembered, though.  Only the people close to the most important men would have their names recorded for outsiders to know.  Jae-ha wasn’t sure what happened to everyone else.

The city he was in was lively.  There were neither parades nor parties, from what he had seen so far, but there was laughter and chatter, mothers who scolded their children then offered smiles to passers-by, men who gathered in groups to discuss things only they understood, and merchants who called over anyone who spared a glance at their stalls.  Houses were built close to each other, but never quite touched each other, and women seemed to enjoy standing outside their homes to talk to their neighbors.  The stench of liquor was persistent, carried on most of the men Jae-ha passed and overwhelming on the people he saw stumbling in the dirt streets.  There weren’t many horses, but there were plenty of straw-filled stalls for rent, usually next to inns, and the horse-riders tended to wear clothes that none of the other city-folk wore.  Most of the buildings were tall, except for places that he assumed were houses, but all their walls were colored in blues or browns or greens.  Dirty children ran rampant, playing games Jae-ha had never seen before.  Many of the women stood along buildings, their shoulders bare, their skin glistening, and they focused their eyes on any men who walked in their direction.  Jae-ha didn’t like looking at them, because his stomach tightened at the sight of their pretty lips and prominent bosoms.

The marketplace stood close to the harbor, where a wide variety of ships were anchored.  But the merchants stretched far into the middle of the city, and the farther Jae-ha got from the sea, the less fish they were selling.  The crowd grew thinner the more he walked, leaving him vulnerable to anyone’s sight.  But the day was already more than halfway over, and Jae-ha had darted all around the city.  There was no way anyone could be following him anymore.

“Hey, kiddo!”

Jae-ha turned his head in direction of the voice.  It belonged to a merchant, a man just a bit taller than Garou, but with plenty of fat on his cheeks.  His skin practically glowed in the sunlight, providing a somewhat nice distraction from his many missing teeth.  His hair, brown and messy, grew all the way down to his chin, but he had no beard.  He waved Jae-ha over with a deceitfully big grin.  Jae-ha crossed his arms over his stomach and approached the merchant.

“What is it?” he asked, staring up at the man from behind his messy bangs.

“You’re new here, aren’t ya?” the merchant instantly replied, leaning over his counter to meet eyes with the youngster.

Jae-ha took two quick steps back.  “Yeah.  Why do you want to know?”

The merchant laughed, maybe good-naturedly.  “Nothing, really, new people are just good for business.”  He stood up straight, hands flattened out on the counter.  “What brings you to Awa?”

Jae-ha blinked.  “Awa?”  He lifted a hand from the crook of his elbow to brush his bangs from his eyes.  “Is that where I am?”

The merchant’s face contorted, lips drawing down with his eyebrows, and he leaned over.  “You really don’t know?”

Jae-ha shook his head.  “I arrived just this morning.”  From the sky, but he didn’t need to know that.

“What about your parents?” the merchant questioned.  “Shouldn’t they have told you where you were going?”

Jae-ha bit the gum of his cheek.  He looked down at the pattern of pebbles at his feet, at the old wood of the merchant’s stall, at anything but the man’s eyes.  “Does that matter?”  He shifted his weight to his other foot and huffed.

The stall creaked.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the merchant cross his arms, almost copying Jae-ha in stance.  “Orphan, huh?  Explains why you look like such shit.”

A spark tickled Jae-ha’s spine, racing like mice up his back and startling his shoulders.  He took another step back.  “What do you mean?”

“Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?  You’re covered in bruises and you’re sunburnt.”  The merchant tapped the counter.  Jae-ha glanced up at him and saw a small mirror in the man’s hand.  He took a few steps forward to get a view of his reflection.  Oh.  So _that’s_ what sunburn looked like.  Red-pink skin that was almost agonizing to see.  It spread across his face and down his neck, the color occasionally interrupted by his purple bruises and brown cuts.  It was pretty gross.  “Not to mention that you’re basically caked in dirt and mud,” the merchant added.

Jae-ha sent him a glare.  Why should it matter if he was dirty or clean?  If he had parents or not?  He was already twelve years old, grown just enough to take care of himself.  Sudden, feverish itches sprung across his human leg, so he reached down to scratch them.  The ants from the woods had left him plenty of bumps to remember them by.  Hopefully none of them were poisonous.  “Think you could at least tell me about Awa?”

The merchant cast him a wary stare before sighing and picking up a scroll from the right side of his counter.  He unrolled the parchment to reveal a map, painted in delicate brush strokes and detailing only five cities and four countries.  The merchant pointed to a part of land next to the water, in the upper left side of the map, rather close to a city called _Chi’shin (Earth)_.  “You at least know what country we’re in, right?”

Jae-ha took a few moments to rifle through his memories of all the stupid little things Garou had taught him about the outside world.  “Kouka?” he eventually offered, lowering his leg and forcing himself not to scratch anymore.  He didn’t want to itch his skin raw.

“Huh, so you’re at least not completely stupid,” the merchant replied.  What an asshole.  “Well, Kouka’s divided into five tribes, Sky, Wind, Earth, Fire, Water.  Kuuto, the capital, is currently in the hands of the Sky Tribe.  Awa is in the Earth Tribe.  We’re set along the sea, so we’re pretty important for trade.  Our general lives in the capital of the Earth Tribe, Chi’shin.”

Jae-ha tilted his head.  “If you’re so important, then why doesn’t the general live here?”

The merchant barked a laugh.  “Chi’shin’s the capital for a reason!  It’s close to Kuuto and it’s just outside the mountain ranges.  It’s right along the only route any army can take if they want to travel the Earth tribe’s land.  It’s strategic.  If Awa was the capital, then we would be those Water tribe pansies.”  The merchant snorted cruelly.  “Geez, where are you from, anyway?  Fire tribe?  Only idiots live there.”

Jae-ha blinked up to the sky.  Ryokuryuu Village was a hidden land, behind mountains and endless forests, only ever crossed by lost travelers.  It belonged to no one, Garou had said.  Even before the village had to move eighty-five years ago, whenever a conqueror approached, villagers and dragon alike had defeated them.  The village was theirs and theirs alone.  “Don’t know,” Jae-ha finally said.

The merchant’s shoulders tensed.  “What, really?  You don’t even know where you came from?”

Jae-ha shook his head.

The merchant sighed, his arms falling to his sides.  “You’re makin’ me feel bad for you, kid.”  With another sigh, he rolled up the map and held it out to Jae-ha.  “Here, you can have it.  There’s information on the back about the country.  Maybe you can use it to figure out where you came from.”

Jae-ha took the map, careful not to crush it in his grip.  The parchment was different from that of his books.  It was rougher, but tougher, and had a bit of a glossy appearance.  The words on the back were painted close together in a scrawling script, but were just legible enough that Jae-ha could probably read all of it within a week.  “Thank you,” he mumbled as he gazed upon his gift.

“You want some lotion for that sunburn, too?” the merchant asked.

Jae-ha met his eyes.  He was being so kind.  Why?  Jae-ha was just a monster, traveling aimlessly.  It wasn’t like he had anything the merchant could use.  “Uh, sure?”  He held out his hand, anyway, because maybe the man wasn’t as bad as he seemed.

The man held up his hand in a gesture for ‘stop’.  “Don’t get ahead of yourself.  Running a business that sells various products isn’t cheap.  I don’t mind giving you the map ‘cause they’re cheap, but lotion isn’t.  You at least gotta hand over some cash.”

So he _was_ an asshole.  Jae-ha lowered his hand.  “Do I really look like someone with money?”

The merchant waved his hand dismissively.  “Then leave.  Beggars are bad for business.”

Jae-ha bit the gum of his cheek.  Why did he expect anything better?  Monsters didn’t receive charity.  Without a word, he turned on his heel and walked away, map crushed in the curl of his fingers.  When he turned a few corners and found himself totally alone in an alleyway, he jumped and landed on a roof.  His stomach rumbled.  Perhaps, the next day, he could guilt a food merchant or two to give him something to eat for free.  If he could get a map, maybe he could get a dumpling or an apple.  If money was really that important, then he could offer himself for something.  Garou had always got his food for doing his job (catching Jae-ha and keeping threats away from the village).  There would most likely be something even a monster could do.  Either way, he would be fine.

But dreams and reality are discordant.  Over the next few days, no matter how much he stared, begged, guilted, or lied, the most he could receive were bites, leftovers from the cooking process where the food was too small or tasteless to sell.  The sun rose and the sun set with him living off the morsels, and soon enough, the merchants began to remember him.  They saw the kid with green hair and wouldn’t wait a second to tell him to leave.  Beggars were bad for business.  Human hearts were quick to shrivel.

But not once did Jae-ha ask for a job to do.  As the first and only seller he had attempted to ask for a job from had said, “Nobody wants a bruised and burned beggar boy.”  It was stupid to even bother trying.  It was a shame he would rather avoid experiencing.  Monsters weren’t made to be happy.

On the third day of hunger and thirst and exhaustion, he made his regular, mid-morning trip to the market.  There had to be something, he thought, _anything_ that he could beg for.  The Yellow glow, as he had realized on his second morning in Awa, would not be coming for him.  No hallucinated food would arrive during his sleep, as would no water.  All he had left was to hope for a traveling merchant to appear or a new stall to be set up.  They wouldn’t recognize him.  They couldn’t have been warned about him (as was what had happened between the squid merchant and the fruit merchant).  In the far eastern outskirts of Awa, beggars pooled in the streets, but they offered even less than the merchants, and the vast majority of them screamed at him if he dared to ask for their help.  He was on his own.  He wasn’t sure how he ever thought he could rely on the goodness of people.  His wrists and human ankle were proof enough of the overwhelming presence of human vice.

Just as he entered the more populous part of the marketplace, close to the harbor, he heard a loud and jovial voice call out, “Hey, you!”  He turned his head in its direction, curious to see the owner of the voice (and on a stupid little hope that the owner was shouting for him) and saw a man, probably not too many years older than Jae-ha, staring directly at him and waving his giant hand.  Jae-ha froze.  The man and someone who might be his friend took that as incentive to hurry over.

Fear settled quickly in Jae-ha’s bones, screaming at him to take his leave, because no good stranger would be so glad to see him.  But before he could make his legs run, as he had done so constantly the past few days, the men reached him, wide-eyed and grinning.  The one who had called out to him kneeled, apparently not caring that doing so made him shorter than the standing twelve year old.  He was muscular, and quite proud of it, since he didn’t bother to wear a shirt with sleeves.  His dirty blonde hair was a field in its own right, wild and long, with mazes of waves.  His friend was dark-skinned, a lovely brown that highlighted his black hair, tied back with a blue ribbon, and he had broad shoulders and strong legs that were noticeable even beneath his clothes.

“Hey, you’re the kid who fell into the ocean a few days back, right?” the first man asked.

Jae-ha should have run while he had the chance.  If they had seen him fall, then they should know as much as Gigan.  Well, better late than never.  Jae-ha took a step back, turned around, and began his quick escape, only to be harshly pulled back on his arm ( _and he was being dragged from the sky before he could reach it and Garou was screaming and the villagers were glaring and oh, gods, what had he done what had hedone what hadhedone whathadhedone whathadnhedonae whathadhedone_ ).

“Don’t worry!  We won’t bite!” the other man claimed.  He released his grip slowly and softly, but he didn’t retract his arm.  The world spun and the air was shallow, but Jae-ha did his best to keep his ground despite his shaking knees.  He had to wonder about what he had just experienced, about those flashing memories and flood of panic, but he had no time to think, because his potential captors were speaking.

“My name is Byung-ho,” the man who had called him said, gesturing to himself, “and this is my buddy Min-ki,” he stated while pointing to the other man.  “We work for Gigan.”  Well, that was obvious enough.  From what Jae-ha knew, there had been nobody else who was sailing the ocean when he drowned.  “She’s been worried about you.”  Why?  Was she hoping her little prize would be too damaged by the next time she found him?  “She asked us to be on the lookout for you and to bring you to her if we saw you.”

“No way,” Jae-ha immediately responded.  He took a deep breath — forced himself to hold it — released it.  He was okay.  Nevermind the clog in his throat, or the anxiety in his bones, or the turmoil in his head.  He was fine.  _He was fine._

The man named Min-ki squatted, his thick eyebrows raised.  “I know you’re afraid, but she really means no harm.”

Except she knew too much.  “Don’t care,” Jae-ha answered.  He shrugged off Min-ki’s hand.  “Tell the Old Lady that I’m fine.  I don’t need any help.”

“But you’re hungry, aren’t you?” Byung-ho interjected.  “She can offer you money for food, maybe even a place to stay.”

“Don’t need it.”

 

* * *

 

“‘I’ll do anything, so let me stay,’ you say?”

He was weak.  Jae-ha, the latest generation of the legendary Green Dragon warriors, was pathetic.  He kept his eyes fixed on Captain Gigan, his body wobbling as he kneeled, and all he knew was shame.

She crossed her legs and looked down at him, chin resting on her knuckles while her elbow sat on the arm of her ornate chair.  “You’re a stupid, snot-nosed brat,” she said, coolly like it was a fact, but without a hint of malice.  Jae-ha swallowed air down his thoroughly parched throat.  “Don’t you know how to court a woman?”

“Please,” he managed to croak out.  Four days in Awa, and he was already losing his voice to a starvation he hadn’t known even in the village, where a terrible bowl of soup could be all he would have for the day or two.  “You’re the only person who has offered me anything.  All I want is a job.”

She stared at him, her wrinkled face betraying nothing.  Her eyes, two warm pools of brown, met his steadfastly.  Reflexively, he averted his gaze.  She leaned forward and, with a voice barely above a whisper, asked, “You remember where you woke up?”  He nodded.  “Rest there for the night.  You start work tomorrow morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I actually managed to post a chapter when I said I would. It's amazing. Comments and critiques are super, duper appreciated! If there's anything you find strange/don't like, please don't hesitate to tell me! This is going to be a really long work, so I need all the feedback I can get.


	4. Terrible Faults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touch burns and trust hides, but she is determined, and he is willing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter owes its title to the song "Terrible Faults" by O S L O. Feel free to give it a listen!

The ship rocked to the beat of the waves all throughout the night, a bit dizzying at first, yet peaceful the more Jae-ha was exposed to it.  When he awoke, the sun was peeping through the circular window, and he thought he was flying — not as he usually flew, by jumping up when he fell down, but actually soaring, like the clouds that never once knew the horrors of the ground and brought their torment or their relief at their own will.  Yet his stomach rumbled painfully, and he was forced to remember that he was alive and he was stranded.  With a grunt, he rolled off the soft mat Gigan had allowed him to sleep on, and he struggled with the temptation of warmth his blanket gave him.  Food.  He needed food.  Not warmth.  Maybe he could raid a house before his work for Gigan began.

_Thump.  Thump.  Thump._

Footsteps.

Restraining a groan, Jae-ha freed himself from the blanket and approached the door.  It was probably one of those huge, smelly sailors who had welcomed him to their crew with huge slaps on Jae-ha’s back that seared his tired shoulders the night before.  One of them had probably arrived early so he could mess around with his new crewmate.  Well, he could go fuck himself, in Jae-ha’s modest opinion.

But just as Jae-ha opened the door, he was not met with the face of large, gross man.  Rather, it was Gigan who stood in front of him, a tea kettle in one hand and a cloth-covered bowl in the other.  Her kiseru was already hanging from her lips, a small stream of smoke wafting into the air.  In the bare morning hours, where the sun’s rays weren’t strong enough to swallow the moon, a specter’s glow surrounded her, like mist during rainfall.

“Didn’t think you would already be awake,” she mumbled, voice lagged by the sleep still leaving her system.

His hand tightened on the door handle.  Why was she there?  “I was hungry,” he told her.

She made something akin to a grunt and raised her hands, showcasing the kettle and bowl.  “Good thing that I brought breakfast.”

Eh?  Breakfast?  “For who?” he asked.

Gigan’s eyebrows furrowed slightly.  Was she angry?  No, the set of her shoulders was relaxed.  But if she wasn’t angry, then what was she?  “It’s for you,” Gigan said.

Ah, so she was a liar.  “Really?”  Jae-ha took a step forward.

“Have you seen yourself?” Gigan rebutted.  Swiftly, she stepped around him and forced her way into the room.  Halfway between the door and the mat was a small cupboard from which she drew out two tall teacups.  “You’re starting to look like a skeleton.”

“No I’m not,” he rebuked.  There was no way he was already that far gone.

“You are,” she replied, quick as a quiver.  “Sit down,” she commanded.

“Why should I?” he questioned.  However, he did sit down across from her, legs crossed and his hands clutching the dilapidated fabric of his pants.

“You make no sense, brat,” Gigan grumbled.  In a graceful motion, she lifted the kettle and poured a green-colored tea into the cups.  “It might be cold,” she said as she placed one of the cups in front of him, “but it should be good.”  Next, she removed the cloth that covered the bowl and revealed grilled fish, chopped into sizeable pieces.

Drool — that Jae-ha had no idea he could still have, after days of having barely anything to drink — dripped from his lips.  Swiftly, he wiped it away and set up the best glare he could manage with his stomach growling incessantly.  “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Feeding you,” Gigan replied without sparing him a glance.  She took out two pairs of chopsticks from the sleeve of her changshan and passed one of them to Jae-ha.

“But why?!” he nearly shouted.  This time, Gigan looked at him.  “I haven’t done anything for you yet.”  It was a miracle in itself that she had accepted him for a job, because nobody wanted a bruised and burned beggar boy, especially not the people who had seen his monstrous foot or his miraculous jump.  Perhaps she had some alternative motivation for taking him in — Jae-ha was too desperate to care.  But the food, that was too kind of a gesture, and people weren’t kind.

“You can’t do anything for me if you’re on an empty stomach,” Gigan answered.  She removed the kiseru from her mouth and puffed out a cloud of smoke.  “If you’re going to work for me, you need to be healthy.”  She picked up a piece of the fish and held it in front of his lips.  “Eat.  If you want to survive, then eat.”

It smelled like something he had never known before.  Slowly, he parted his dry lips and bit down on it, jerking it away from Gigan’s chopsticks and sucking it into his mouth.  One bite and flavor flooded his tongue.  It was dry, but not like the dirt, and it had a peculiar taste that was far from disgusting.  The meat bent to the will of his teeth so easily, in a way he hadn’t thought was possible.  He swallowed quickly, long before the fish was properly chewed, and picked up his cup of tea.  He took a sip and, while the drink certainly stunk like soil, it tasted like the smell of flowers — delightful and varied and just perfect overall.  He tipped his head back and drank down more, more, more, quenching his dreadfully dry throat in one delightful gulp after another.  When it was all gone, he sighed happily, and set the cup back down on the floor with a resounding _bang!_

“It’s delicious,” he said.  He parted his chopsticks and picked up another piece of fish.  “Thank you.”  After bowing his head, Jae-ha began eating as quickly and ravenously as he could.  Gigan, at a much slower pace than him, re-filled his cup, steadily and silently.  If she ever ate, or if she ever did anything except pour tea and stare at him, he wasn’t sure, but when his bowl was empty and his stomach was grumbling in satisfaction, she had barely moved.

In the pleasant hush between them, Gigan gathered the dishes and placed them atop the cupboard.  The sun was beginning to pour through the window, like a pack of arrows soaring together, and Jae-ha rushed over to peak outside.  Perhaps it was the full stomach, but the sight before him was more beautiful than the smile of an otherwise hopeless man.  In the past few days, he had seen the sunrise plenty of times, since his hunger could only let him sleep for a few hours at night.  But never had it appeared so miraculous, so bright and colorful, with promises streaming from the sky and the clouds like angels that kissed the blushing dawn.  The water beneath the sunrise appeared as a blanket made of the most lavish of fabrics, the kind only dragon kings of legend wore, soft at the very sight of it and alluring to the point that Jae-ha almost jumped into it again.  He could barely believe he was alive and lucky enough to see the beauty before him.

“Sunrise in Awa is gorgeous, isn’t it?” Gigan asked.  He looked over to her and nodded rapidly.

“It’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen!” Jae-ha replied.  The rise and set of the sun had never been detailed in any of the stories he had read.  Heroes were much more concerned with the spirits and danger to ever think about nature.  In the woods, there were too many aches, worries, and never-ending thoughts for Jae-ha to handle that the sun was more like a goal than a beauty, though he had plucked a few flowers so he could examine their soft petals and romantic smell.  But this, the sunrise upon the ocean of Awa, this was a glory he needed limitless pieces of paper and time just to describe.

Something touched his shoulder, faintly like a butterfly’s legs, but with too much weight to be something so harmless.  Holding a mind of their own, his feet jerked him away, the muscles in his arms tightening in preparation of a fight.  But the one who had touched him was no belligerent human or crazed dragon.  It was Gigan, the person gracious enough to hire him and feed him.  She stared at him in what might be surprise.

“Sorry,” she said after a brief pause.  “Didn’t know you were so sensitive.”  Gigan lowered her hand and turned on her heel.  “Come on, now, we need to start the day.”

He followed after her, staring up at her skinny shoulders.  Together, they left the room and walked out onto the deck.  Whispers of the morning were rising in the city, coupled with the sound of footsteps slowly approaching the harbor.  The curtain of ocean gave way to dirty old docks, which led to stone and the boots of the huge, smelly sailors who worked under Gigan.  Among the group Jae-ha could spot Byung-ho and Min-ki, who were too preoccupied with rubbing their eyes to see him.

“Wake up, you lazy brats.  We’ve got a new crewmember, so show him the ropes!” Gigan commanded, like an officer to his soldiers.

“Yes, ma’am!” was the response from all the sailors, though they failed to say it in any form of unison.

As the sailor’s lazily walked up the ramp to the ship, Jae-ha tugged on Gigan’s sleeve to catch her attention.  “What’s the job?”

“There’s two parts to working with me,” Gigan responded.  “The first part is fishing.  If you prove yourself here, I’ll tell you the second part.”  She lifted a hand.  “Mind if I touch your back?”

That was a stupid question.  “Yeah,” Jae-ha grunted.  Touch wasn’t anything special.  It couldn’t be coveted like a treasure or a power.  It was just an action.

But as Gigan’s hand relaxed on his shoulder blade, Jae-ha thought he was being burned.  There was no physical pain, and her hand was a bit warm, but it was like a winter’s worst chill smoldering itself through every crack of his skin and down into his spine.  _Run run run_ , he had to run, far, far away from the threat.

( _“Hurry up, go alone!  Fly away!”_ )

“Jae-ha.”

The threat was pierced through by a voice like an officer to her soldier.  He looked up through the haze and saw Gigan.  Her hand was no longer on his shoulder blade, but the chill remained, stabbing him the longer he tried to stay still.

“I won’t do it again,” she whispered.  Jae-ha reached over his shoulder to rub the sting her touch had left.  “Follow me,” Gigan stated.  “I’ll give you a tour of the ship.”  Smoke wafted from her nostrils as she spun around.  In spite of his trembling legs, Jae-ha moved to follow her.  Gathered upon the deck, the sailors chattered, their long legs and large muscles bumping into each other in a space that seemed so, so small with all of them.  Jae-ha stayed close to Gigan, near enough that her smell was the only thing his nose could find.

But his ears could hear everything around him.  “Jae-ha!” Byung-ho called out to him.  Jae-ha turned to the voice, catching glimpses of Byung-ho’s field of dirty blond hair and bare biceps before noticing his brawny arm reaching for him, palm-open like he was about to grab Jae-ha and toss him mercilessly into the sea.  The chill in Jae-ha’s shoulder swelled throughout his body, screaming like the trees in a storm.  ( _“Hurry up, go alone!  Fly away!”_ )  The muscles in his legs tensed, blood pumping like a hummingbird’s wings in his dragon foot, and he was going to fly, he _was_ , but before Byung-ho could reach him, another hand swooped in and grabbed the sailor’s wrist.

“Don’t touch him,” Gigan ordered.  The steel in her voice was frightening, yet, somehow, Jae-ha could only fear for Byung-ho.

“S-sorry, Captain…” Byung-ho stuttered out.  “I only wanted to greet our new crewmate.”

“You can do so without touching him,” Gigan rebutted.  Her eyes settled into a glare, and Byung-ho nervously nodded, so she released his wrist.  With a half-hearted wave and a whispered “Hello,” Byung-ho made his greeting before he scampered away to Min-ki’s side.

“…You didn’t have to do that…” Jae-ha mumbled.

“We take care of each other here,” Gigan replied.  She began walking up a small set of stairs.  “We help you when you’re scared, no question.”

“I-I wasn’t scared!” Jae-ha shouted.  With a small hop, he moved to the upper half of the deck, where Gigan waited for him.

“You’re welcome,” she muttered when he returned to her side.  “Anyway, tour of the ship.”  Gigan looked over her shoulder and snapped her fingers.  Behind her, several steps away, was a massive wheel with handles the shape of teardrops.  A sailor appeared and gripped two of the many handles.  “Northwest,” Gigan muttered and, near immediately, the man spun the wheel to the right.  Jae-ha wasn’t sure if something on or in the ship changed because of the action, but he certainly knew that it caused the sailors on the lower part of the deck to scamper to the two masts, like ants around food.  “Hoist the sails!” Gigan shouted.  Men climbed the nets tied to the masts, going so high up that they could easily fall to their deaths.  Upon nearing the top, they pulled at ropes and sheets larger than two Awa houses combined unfurled loudly.  Men lower on the nets and on the ground grabbed the sheets and attached the bottoms to the masts.  Within heartbeats, Jae-ha could feel the ship turning beneath his feet, and before his eyes the curtain of ocean give way to the moving vessel.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Gigan asked.  “We just set sail.  The wheel behind us is the helm.  It steers the ship.  Remind me when we dock again to show you where the rudder is.  My men just hoisted the sails, which catch the wind so we can move.  Any questions?”

Jae-ha shook his head.

“Good.”  Gigan walked forward and leaned on a railing, puffing out smoke as she did so.  “The room you slept in last night is the captain’s quarters.”

Jae-ha moved to stand just behind her.  “Aren’t you the captain?  Don’t tell me you gave up your bed for me.”

She chuckled slightly.  “No, of course not.  I have my own house.”

“Eh?  Captain’s don’t live on their ships?”

Her eyes flitted to him, a humored smile visible around her pipe.  “Not usually.  I live close to the harbor and make some extra money as an information bank.  The only use I have for this ship is fishing.”

Jae-ha gripped the rail, studying all the little lines embedded into the wood.  They flowed erratically, but with a noticeable and singular destination.  Like people in the hands of gods.  “This is a really big boat.”

Gigan hummed.  “It came from the Water Tribe’s fleet.  It was too old for combat, so it was refurbished as a trade vessel.”

Jae-ha leaned over the railing.  His arms shook with his weight shifted to them.  “Who gave it to you?” he asked.  “Or did you buy it yourself?”

Like the first drop of rain, Gigan’s face fell, sudden and full of warning.  Jae-ha scampered back, one hand on the railing while the other hung aimlessly in the air.  Was she angry?  There was nothing tense in her posture, except for her face, but he didn’t know her.  Maybe she was furious.  Maybe he had asked the wrong question.  He swallowed down the salty air and waited for her inevitable out lash.

“Jae-ha!  We need your help!” one of the sailors called out.  Hesitantly, he looked over the lower deck and saw the fifteen men gathered around a huge net that was splayed out like a fallen house.  A quick glance back at Gigan revealed she was staring straight at him, but she otherwise hadn’t moved from her position.

“I-I’m going…” Jae-ha began, his voice trailing off as his throat clogged.

“It’s okay,” Gigan stated.  “Go help them.”

“Th-thank… thank you.”  Jae-ha bowed slightly then, using the scaling as leverage, hopped over to the sailors and the huge net, landing a safe distance away from them.

“Wow, kid, you sure can jump!” one of the sailors exclaimed with a hearty laugh trailing at his words.

“Yeah!  You must be stronger than we thought,” another man joked.

Jae-ha loosely wrapped one arm around his stomach.  “Y-yeah.”  He would have to be more cautious about jumping.  He couldn’t have them noticing.  It was bad enough that Gigan already knew.  “What’re we doing?”

“Casting the net,” Min-ki answered.  His black hair was loose, though the blue ribbon he had used to tie it back was knotted on his wrist, so he appeared rather feminine.  It was distractingly pretty.  “We throw this net out into the ocean and sail,” Min-ki continued to explain.  He walked over to Jae-ha and crouched down.  He picked up part of the net and held it out for Jae-ha to see it and the strange, root-like thing tied to it.  “These roots are used as weights so the net won’t float at the surface.  Whenever we catch fish, we haul the net in, take out the fish, and then cast the net again.  We keep doing this until Captain Gigan says we have enough.”

Jae-ha nodded.  It was difficult, he thought, to not stare into Min-ki’s deep and rich brown eyes.  “What do we do with the fish?” he asked.

“Divide the catch up,” Min-ki answered.  “Everyone gets their fair share of fish, and what’s left is sold at the market.  If you want, you can do the fish-dividing while we work the net.”

Jae-ha shook his head.  If Awa was anything like Ryokuryuu Village, then he would have to work to eat.  “No.  I want to work like you guys do.”  If he did, then he wouldn’t earn less food than they would.

Min-ki smiled gorgeously.  “Sounds good.”  So enraptured in that simple, yet lovely, upturn of lips, Jae-ha didn’t notice the hand reaching for him until there were fingers brushing against his shoulder.  Like a flash of lightening, he was five steps away from Min-ki, and there was a storm in his chest, tormenting his heart and his lungs.

Min-ki stared at him, beautifully wide-eyed, and his hand frozen in mid-air.  Over the salty breeze, Gigan’s voice carried as she yelled at her sailors, “Don’t touch him!  He doesn’t like it!”  A strangled chorus of, “Yes, ma’am” was her men’s response.

The sailors stood up and returned to their work, tying lines around their hands before casting the net into the ocean.  The low murmurs and rumblings of quiet voices echoed behind him as Jae-ha sat down, knees drawn up to his chest, legs held tight in a hug, and he breathed out the storm from his chest.  His heart beat painfully fast, as though it would tear itself from his body to escape the torture his body put it through.  His lungs took in barely enough air, like they were filled with water again and he was desperately drowning on dry land.  The chill he had felt from Gigan’s touch and Byung-ho’s halted greeting worsened, burning him from the inside.  He wasn’t dying, he _couldn’t_ be dying, but somehow he was certain that another touch, or threat of touch, would be his end.  So, he sat, and he tried to breathe, and he waited.  The ghost of Garou whispered to him all the horrors of life and the terrors of death, but he listened idly as he always had, and he stayed sitting until his heart slowed and his lungs breathed freely and his body warmed and the spirit dispersed.  By then, the sun was midway in the sky, and four piles of fish had been caught.

“You sure the kid’s okay?” one of the sailors mumbled.  Slowly, Jae-ha stood up, legs wobbling but far from falling.

“Have you seen his face?” Gigan answered.  “Of course he isn’t.  He’s been through a lot.  Give him some time.”  Jae-ha took a step forward.  Then another.  It was like his whole body had worn itself out.

“Have you worked with kids like him before, Captain?” another sailor asked.  Jae-ha inhaled deeply, chest puffing like a proud bird, and he focused his vision on the group in front of him.

Gigan’s face softened, wrinkles sagging and eyes shining.  “A few.  He’s been the best case so far.”  Jae-ha walked over to Gigan and tugged her sleeve.

“I’m ready to work,” he said.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Min-ki wincing.  A sailor with a faint yellow complexion, long beard but young face, and short messy brown hair approached him.  “We’re actually almost done, kid.  Why don’t you start dividing up the fish for us?  Captain can probably show you how it’s done.”

Jae-ha stepped towards him and stood straight, staring up at the sailor with all the force he could muster.  “No way!  I have to work to eat, don’t I?  If I work less than you guys, then I won’t eat as much.”  He had already lost so much time and food as it was, what with that sudden and intense panic he had had.

There was silence among the men and a few exchanged glances.  The yellow-skinned sailor kneeled down, meeting Jae-ha at eye level.  “Look, I don’t know what you’ve been through, but that’s not how it works here.  Awa’s rich.  We’ve got plenty to share.  You’ll get as much as we do, maybe even more.”

Jae-ha blinked.  That was… weird.  Really weird.  “Are you sure?”

A smile, perhaps relived, appeared on the sailor’s face.  “Yeah.  I promise.  We take care of each other here.”

 

* * *

 

“Set it down here.”

With a comfy _thwump_ , Jae-ha dropped the full sack of fish in front of the short stove.  His arms ached from carrying the heavy luggage, so with a sigh he began to massage his tired muscles, squeezing at the skin through his frayed clothes.  Outside, the sun was already at its zenith, which meant the chatter of the day was also at its loudest, as it poured through Gigan’s windows and cracks in the doors.  Gigan’s house was small and unimpressive, particularly in comparison to what Jae-ha had seen of Awa.  Nothing painted her walls, neither inside nor out, and only some of her already few rooms had doors.  But her house was better than his old hut.  It had a kitchen and it was more than a single space.  That was enough for him.

“Do you want to see your room?” Gigan asked from where she crouched next to a low table in her kitchen area.

Jae-ha furrowed his eyebrows.  “I thought you gave me your captain’s quarters to sleep in.”

From beneath the table, Gigan pulled out a box that was just a bit larger than her hand.  She slid off the top to reveal a bowl full of ash.  “I can’t have a brat on my boat all alone every night.  You need a proper home.”  She removed her pipe from her lips and flipped it upside down, tapping the kiseru against the corner of the box so that ash flew from the tobacco chamber and into the bowl.

Jae-ha crossed his arms.  “I don’t need a home,” he replied.  “Home ties you down.”

“I won’t take no for an answer,” Gigan immediately countered.  “Do you want to see your room?” she questioned as she stood.

“No,” Jae-ha answered.

Gigan chuckled.  It sounded like a melodic cough.  “You’ve got guts.  I like that.”  Walking past him, Gigan smiled down at him like a fox to its kind.  “C’mon, you’ve got just enough time in the day to clean up your room.”

Ah, so maybe that was why they had given him so much fish to eat.  Gigan had planned to have him clean for her, which would definitely be a lot of work.  He glanced at the sack of fish he had dropped inside of her kitchen.  It was her share of food.  His sack was outside, and it was definitely heavier than what Gigan had received.  With a shrug, Jae-ha trotted after her, following her through a door and into a room covered in webs and absolutely coated in dust.

“Hope you know how to sweep,” Gigan said.  “Because you’re going to be busy for the rest of the day if you don’t want to sleep in a messy room.”

Jae-ha covered his mouth to keep from coughing.  “…What do you want from me?”

Gigan didn’t spare him a glance.  She stared straight into the room, at all the walls empty except for dust and webs.  “I want to give you a home, nothing more.”

Jae-ha looked down at his feet, and at her feet, as well.  They were almost the same size, it appeared.  “You’ve seen my leg and you’ve seen me jump.  Now you’re giving me a room in your house.  You must want something from me.”

“Listen, brat.”  Gigan tapped his shoulder with her fingernails, the touch so barely noticeable that Jae-ha recognized no threat.  He took a step back to give her space as she kneeled in front of him.  “I don’t want to have to keep repeating myself.  We take care of each other here.  To me, you’re just a twelve year old kid who has gone through too much shit.  All I want to do is give you a home.  If you want to leave, I can’t actually stop you, but I want you to stay.  Got it?”

Jae-ha didn’t dare meet her eyes.  But her words, oh, they reached something deep inside him, something he hadn’t felt since the first time a villager’s arrow had grazed him.  Jae-ha looked up and into the room, seeing the dust-coated walls and cobwebbed opportunities.  He nodded slowly, like his head was held up by a string that he could break with any sudden movement.  “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! The "stove" that's mentioned in the chapter is a kamado! And, in case you're curious, yes, the sailors will all receive names & will be used throughout the story. Can't have the interaction be purely between Jae-ha & Gigan & a bunch of nameless characters. It would get confusing. Anyway, as always, comments and critiques are SUPER appreciated!


	5. Break the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it comes to conflicting interests, only one ever gets its way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Before the world dies at my door,  
> I’ll break the sky,  
> For you and I are going nowhere.  
> Kiss goodbye a dozen times before we get there.  
> Why do I need anybody else?  
> When I can break the sky myself?"  
> \- Break the Sky, by the Hush Sound

**Author's note:** I’ve noticed that I’m probably confusing my readers, so here’s a quick key for my use of parentheses~

_(This is Jae-ha’s thoughts.)_

**(This is the dragon’s thoughts.)**

**_(This is the dragon influencing Jae-ha’_ _s thoughts.)_ **

_(“This is Jae-ha remembering something that someone said.”)_

 

* * *

 

 

In spite of his extensive and strenuous work to clean his new room in Gigan’s house, he awoke in the morning to the feeling of dust in the back of his throat.  Every time he took a breath it tickled him and forewarned him of an impending, mighty cough.  He could spot its thin veil in every little corner and nook he had missed.  Yet, honestly, he could care less.  He was warm.  He was comfortable.  He was free.  There were no chains at his ankles or his wrists, clawing into his skin with their metallic burn.  There was just the tickle of dust in his throat, the warmth of his blanket, and the relaxing sensation of a stomach grumbling with hunger but not with starvation.  There was no crazed man at his bedside, nor a sea of arrows pointed at him.  He was safe.  For once in his life, he was safe.

Perhaps he could stay.

Stay in this safe, warm, relaxing place, where the only chains that could hold him down were the chains of relationships.  Perhaps he could stay in this nice place where people took care of each other.  Perhaps he could be happy.

Ah, no.  What was he thinking?  It was only natural (only right) that he would have to leave eventually.  By his own accord or by Gigan’s own disgust, he would have to abandon this warmth and kindness someday soon.  But, at least for a little while, he could enjoy what he had.

Throwing off the blanket, Jae-ha groaned and sat up.  Folded neatly at his side was the rag Gigan had gifted to him to cover his mouth and nose while cleaning.  It would keep the dust from making him cough too much, she had said.  He picked up the rag and pulled off his right shoe.  His pants were luckily long, nearly reaching his ankle, but they were not enough to cover the shimmering green dragon scales that covered his right foot.  He wrapped the rag around his ankle and sole, covering his curse with the gift.  He tied it tight with a knot and pulled his shoe back on.  Perfect.  Nobody could see a thing.

There were two people talking on the other side of his door.  He could recognize Gigan’s voice, laden with a rough accent yet carrying traces of kindness, but he didn’t know the other voice.  Gigan’s house was a tiny place with only three rooms — the kitchen, Gigan’s room, and Jae-ha’s temporary sleeping space.  The first thing someone would see upon entering through the front door would be a tall counter, empty of business but obviously well-kept, in the shape of a L.  Jae-ha could remember Gigan mentioning an information bank being a side job of hers.  So perhaps that was where she did her work, trading knowledge for whatever it was she wanted, and why a stranger was in her house at such an early hour (there was no window in Jae-ha’s room, but he could tell from the stillness that seeped through his walls from the outside world that he sun had yet to rise).  Well, either way, Jae-ha didn’t really care.  He would be her ship worker until it was time for him to leave.  The less he was involved in her life, the better.

Jae-ha moved to the end of his sleeping mat to fold up his blanket.  The voices were coming from the kitchen and the stranger was a woman — that much he could tell.  But their conversation was muffled by the layers of wood and paper between him and them.  It was a bit annoying, especially because he could hear laughter.  Who the hell laughed so early in the morning?  Women in Awa, apparently.  Weird.  With a sigh, Jae-ha placed the folded blanket next to his pillow, hoping it was as neat and nice as it had been when he had received it.  He didn’t know what to do until the stranger left, so he lied back down, wondering it would be possible to get some sleep before Gigan woke him up.

It wasn’t possible at all, actually.  As soon as his head hit the folded blanket, his door was shoved open.  Gigan stood in the doorway, a small trail of smoke coming from her pipe.  Behind her was a brunette woman with cute doe eyes that were surrounded by crow’s feet.

"Oh, you’re already awake,” Gigan commented.  “Just in time for breakfast.”

Jae-ha sat up.  “Breakfast?”

“Breakfast.”

Jae-ha sprang to his feet.  “Great!  What are we eating?”

The stranger woman giggled.  “Crab and rice,” Gigan answered.  “Bora here made it for me.”

Jae-ha turned to the woman.  “Your name is Bora?”

She nodded with a smile that reminded him of a bird’s song.  “Yes.  And you are?”

“Jae-ha,” he replied.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jae-ha,” the woman named Bora said.  She bowed to him, her hands folded neatly in her lap.  Oh, was he supposed to do that, too?  Quickly, he bowed to her, fumbling with his hands to try to fold them as nicely as she did.  He heard her giggle, a charming little noise that made a nervous heat smolder within his chest and cheeks.  “He’s adorable,” he heard Bora say to Gigan.  The smolder worsened.

“He can be,” Gigan admitted.  “Come on, brat, let’s go eat.”

Jae-ha nodded.  “Y-yes, ma’am.”  He looked up at Bora, ignoring the erratic nerves that pulsed within him when he met her kind eyes.  “Thank you for the food.”

She giggled again.  He wondered what he would have to do to keep her laughing like that.  “It’s the least I can do,” Bora told him.  “Gigan’s been helping me all these years, after all.”

“Helping?” Jae-ha asked.

Bora nodded sharply.  “She’s a wonderful woman.  You’re lucky she found you.  I’m sorry if this is rude of me to say, but I can tell she is the person you’ve needed.”

Jae-ha blinked.  “Huh?”

But before he could properly question Bora about what she meant, she bent over and held out her hand.  She thankfully didn’t touch him, but the proximity of her fingers to his head caused a hundred invisible insects to crawl over his hair.  “What a beautiful color,” she mumbled.  “I’ve never seen hair so green.”

“I-it’s nothing,” he immediately responded.  Shit.  She had to know.  He was aware that green hair was a rarity outside of the village.  It was a sign of the Ryokuryuu, and the deeper the color, the stronger the dragon’s blood.  He didn’t know how far the legend of the dragon warriors stretched throughout the country, but, surely, she was at least aware of it.  “P-please don’t mention it…”

“Oh, you’re so shy,” Bora commented.  “You’re a lovely boy with magnificent hair.  That’s all I wanted to tell you.”  Eh?  Really?  “It reminds me of something, but I don’t know what… Oh, well, anyway, I think you should try to grow your hair some more.  You would look so gorgeous with longer hair.”

Jae-ha reached behind his head and felt the old band that was holding his hair together.  Cutting his hair had never been much of a necessity, but, maybe, he would take Bora’s advice.  Being gorgeous was a nice idea.  “Th-thank you…”

Bora giggled again.  Such a lovely noise.  “I should be going now.  Enjoy your meal, Jae-ha.”  She bowed and he quickly returned the action.

“Th-thank you,” he repeated just as she walked out the front door.

“Nice woman, isn’t she?” he heard Gigan ask from behind him.  He spun around and nodded.  Gigan was leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, a pose that made her hips curve noticeably through her outfit.

“Very nice…” he muttered.  “She liked my hair.”

“She likes strange things,” Gigan answered noncommittally.  “But she was right about your hair.  You would look nice with it longer.”

He led his ponytail to rest over his shoulder.  The ends of his hair were uneven like shards of a broken vase from years of cutting them himself.  But, maybe, he could even make them beautiful.  “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gigan replied.  “Come on, let’s eat.”

Jae-ha nodded and followed Gigan into the kitchen.  He sat down, legs crossed and knees akimbo, at the low table.  Two bowls were already set out, one full with rice and steamed and shell-less crab legs while the other contained cooked fish and even more rice.  There were also two clay cups, both full of green tea.  When Gigan sat down across from him, she pushed the crab bowl to him and took the fish bowl for herself.  She pulled up her box of ash from under the table and tapped her pipe against the edge.

“You aren’t going to have some of Miss Bora’s food?” he asked as he picked up his pair of chopsticks.

“You need it more than me,” Gigan immediately responded as she placed her kiseru between her lips again.  “You’re too skinny for a kid your age.”

“N-no I’m not…!” He rubbed his stomach, feeling his ribcage and recent scratches through his shirt.  He was fatter than Garou, if only by a little bit, and that counted for a lot.

“How old are you?” she questioned.

“Twelve.”

Gigan cocked a gray eyebrow.  “You look like a tall eight year old.  You should have muscles on you by now and you don’t.  Eat.”

Jae-ha looked down at his bowl, mumbling to himself that he was definitely not skinny, and picked up a crab leg with his chopsticks.  One bite and deliciousness flooded his tongue.  All the food he had eaten the day before had been delectable — despite every meal being fish, just cooked in different ways — but this, no, _this_ was full of savory juices and delightful tastes.  Before he knew it, he was scarfing down his bowl of food, taking every greedy bite he could just so he could know more, more, _more_ of this wonderful sensation that filled his mouth and his stomach.

“Hey!” Gigan suddenly declared.  “Slow down or you’ll make yourself sick!”

A crab leg dangling from his mouth, he looked down at the bowl — which was already half-empty, somehow.  “Oh.  Sorry… It was just so good!”

Something akin to a smile appeared on Gigan’s lips.  “That’s Bora’s food for you.  She’s had men pining after her and her food since the day she was old enough to marry.”  Gigan held the kiseru between her fingers as she removed it from her mouth and picked up her cup of tea to take a nice, long swig.  Her bowl of food had barely been touched.  “By the way, do you mind if I treat your wounds?  You’ve already been here for a few days, but we can’t have you getting an infection before you finish healing.”

He began chewing on the crab leg and glanced at his wrists.  They didn’t hurt — the pain had nulled around a year ago.  And the bright red that had been on his wrists when Gigan had removed his shackles had already faded to an encouraging pink.  Plus, twelve years of barely treated wounds had yet to yield to any sickness (the only gift of the dragon’s blood, he guessed).  But doing something was better than nothing.  “Sure…” he mumbled.

“Good,” Gigan responded.  She stood up and disappeared from the kitchen.  He busied himself with the rice left in his bowl so he could save the crab legs, the best part of the meal, for last.  When Gigan returned, she carried a small stone bowl in her hand.  In the stone was a yellow balm, the same shade as leaves in autumn.  “Raise your right hand,” she said to him as she sat on his right side.  “I’ll have to touch you to apply it, so try to keep talking with me.  It’ll help distract you.”

Jae-ha pushed his unfinished bowl of food to the center of the table and hid his hands in his lap.  He didn’t know what it was about these people in Awa — they were different from Garou.  That much was obvious.  So touch shouldn’t be a threat from them.  It shouldn’t be something he feared.  Yet, their fingers and their hands burned him as though he had been brutally hit by them.  “I can apply the medicine myself,” he mumbled.  “I-I know how…”

“But you can’t live the rest of your life in fear.  Especially if you’re going to work with my men.  They’re an overly friendly bunch.  You can’t have such a terrible panic every time one of them touches your shoulder.  You can’t run forever.”

Except he had been trying to run for as long as he could remember.  “You don’t know shit, Old Lady.”

Gigan set the stone bowl on the table and placed his cup of tea directly in front of him.  “I know plenty about kids like you.”

Kids like him?  “Wh-what do you mean by that?!” he shouted.

Calmly, Gigan raised an eyebrow and spoke.  “The world’s a cruel place.  I’ve met plenty of kids who have been hurt by the people they trust.  They don’t like touch and they’re prone to distrust and outbursts of anger.  They panic when someone tries to get close.  You’re the first one I’ve seen who’s had reptile skin sewn into his leg —” oh, so she wasn’t talking about the other dragon warriors, that’s good, “—but I think you’re the best case so far.”

Slowly, he removed his hands from his lap and placed them on either side of him.  “What do you mean?”

Gigan smirked.  It was strange.  It was proud.  It was a nice sight.  “You’re resilient,” she replied.  “You keep trying to live on, even after a terrible panic or days without food.  You even slept in the same house as the woman who saw something you obviously don’t want to show, if that cloth around your foot says anything.  I like that about you, Jae-ha.  It means you will heal.”

Jae-ha lifted his right hand and scratched his cheek, which was stupidly warm all of a sudden.  He didn’t know why, but he wanted to cry.  “You’re just saying all that to get on my good side.  But, thank you…”

There was a pinch on his right sleeve and a tug.  He glanced over to see Gigan leading his arm down to the table.  “You said talking will help?” Jae-ha asked as he pulled up his sleeve for her.

Gigan nodded.  “It’s a good distraction.  Ask anything you want to know if you don’t have anything to talk about.”  She placed her kiseru upside down over the ash box, allowing it to smoke alone.

He hummed and took a long sip from his cup of tea.  When he was done, he cleared his throat and asked, “Miss Bora said that you’ve been helping her for a long time.  What did she mean?”

With a dollop of cream on her pointer finger, Gigan answered, “I’ve been helping her by hiring her husband, Hyeok.  He’s a part of the crew.”  First he felt the cold salve pressing against his marred skin, then he rediscovered the burn of her touch.  Don’t think about it, he reminded himself.  _Don’t think about it_.  Eyes shut tight, Jae-ha focused on Gigan’s rough voice.  It reminded him of the sound of feet against uneven ground, after another failed harvest, but without the fear of starvation.  “He’s the one with the giant scar across his face.  Know him?”

 _Don’t think about it_.  “Y-yeah… He’s never talked to me.”  (Take a deep breath.  She isn’t hurting you, she isn’t hurting you.)  “But I’ve seen him.  He has white hair, right?”

Gigan hummed in affirmation.  “That’s him.”

“Why…” he interrupted himself to exhale slowly and take another deep breath, “will no one hire him except you?”

“He’s a drunkard,” Gigan said.  “Loves his bottle more than he loves his family.”  Gigan’s hand slipped under his, fingers curling cautiously around his own.  He relented to her hold, his knuckles bending slightly to accommodate hers, and she lifted his hand so she could spread the balm across the bottom of his wrist.  “But I’ve known him and Bora since they were snot-nosed brats.  I couldn’t let them starve.”

The burn was slowly numbing, conceding to the uncomfortable cold of the balm and the nervous attention of all the hairs on his arm.  “He has a… family…?” Jae-ha questioned, breath shallow but thankfully not constricted.

Gigan nodded.  “Hyeok and Bora have a daughter named Areum.  She’s just a few years younger than you.  I think you’ll like her.”

He couldn’t imagine liking anyone, really.  “Does he hurt her?”

Gigan frowned.  “He hasn’t hit either of them in years.  But if he continues the way he is…” Gigan’s lack of finishing words promised a future Jae-ha didn’t want to think about.  “Hold on,” she muttered as she stood up.  “I need to grab cloth for your wrists.”

She left yet returned quickly, and when she sat down again, Jae-ha asked her, “Then why haven’t you punished him?”

“Punish?” Gigan questioned as she slipped a line of cloth under his wrist.

Jae-ha bobbed his head in affirmation.  “Punish him.  A man like that doesn’t deserve anything good.”

Gigan tied the cloth tightly, but not restrictively, around his wrist.  The balm was uncomfortably slimy between his marred skin and the soft linen, but Jae-ha decided not to focus on it.  “Then what does he deserve?” she wondered aloud.

“Death,” Jae-ha answered immediately.  He wasn’t sure if he was thinking of the scarred face of Hyeok or of men who didn’t deserve the proper burials they were given, but as he spoke, all he could see was a man falling when he should have been flying.  “Things would be better off that way.”

Gigan’s expression didn’t change.  “Except I’m not a killer.  And neither are you.  Besides, Hyeok always gets better before he gets worse.  Maybe, this time, he won’t get worse.  Nobody knows what the future holds.  And so long as Bora wants him around, I won’t interfere in their life.”  She cleared her throat and held out her hand.  “Do you want me to apply the balm to your other wrist or do you want to do it yourself?.”

“I can do it myself,” he mumbled.

“Okay,” she said noncommittally.  Gigan moved to the other side of the table and finally began to eat, her kiseru still smoking alone.  Jae-ha took a dollop of balm with his pointer finger and started applying it to his left wrist, which somehow burned at his own touch.  His bowl of food, left unfinished, was disgusting to look at.

 

* * *

 

 

The catch of the day fell short, with only two nets full of fish contrasting to the four nets caught the day before.  It was probably for the best, however, because Jae-ha was pretty sure that Gigan had _more_ than enough fish to feed both herself and him for at least a few more days (if food could last that long, he wasn’t sure).  Carrying his and Gigan’s joint share of fish in an overused and old bag, Jae-ha rested his cheek against the tied-up opening.  He wondered what he should do for the rest of the day.  He had to finish cleaning his room, of course, but the sun would be far from setting by the time he was done with that.  But there wasn’t anything else to do, especially since he was still penniless.

“Ah, Captain,” he spoke up.  Gigan was walking beside him, lost in thought as she smoked.  He pushed her hip, just slightly, with his shoulder.  “Captain!  I have a question!”

She glanced down at him and hummed in acknowledgement.

“When am I going to be paid?” Jae-ha asked.

“Today,” Gigan answered.  She closed her lips around the tip of her kiseru and took a quick puff.  “I need to make the rounds to pay everyone, so come along with me,” she said with smoke flying from her mouth.

Jae-ha nodded.  Well, that definitely gave him something to do for the day.  He could clean his room and walk around Awa with Gigan and, if he had the time, perhaps buy a book from the market.  It would be a nice companion for his inevitable departure.  New clothes and a pair of boots would be good, as well, but they were expensive.  Plus, he was still growing (hopefully).  It’d be best if he didn’t waste valuable money on items he would soon not need.

But Jae-ha would have to hold off his plans, for standing in front of Gigan’s house was an unknown man.  The only word to describe him was, simply, fat.  His gut, larger than two Awa children, hung over the waistband of his brown pants.  His shirt fell just past his abdomen and was sleeveless, as well as completely open, leaving most of his gratuitous skin exposed to the midday sun.  His cheeks reminded Jae-ha of a squirrel’s.  His hair, a shining red-brown, was braided and reached down to his hips — a considerable length, since the man was at least twice Jae-ha’s height.

Jae-ha darted a step forward and blocked Gigan’s way.  She bumped into him, but he did not budge.  This man, he was a stranger.  Large.  Intimidating.  _A threat_.  Perhaps he had heard the whispers of Gigan’s crew, about a green-haired boy with a lizard’s foot.  Perhaps he would be an agent of change that would prove Awa to be in the same unfortunate situation as Ryokuryuu Village — saddled with a green dragon’s curse.  Perhaps he would be proof enough that Jae-ha truly didn’t belong anywhere.

“I-I’ll take care of him,” Jae-ha stuttered out.  It was his curse, so it was his duty to do away with those who made a move against his dreaded power.  “Go hide or something.”  And while Gigan would probably betray him, as well, one day, he should at least protect the person feeding him, right?

Fingernails combed their way through his ponytail, not quite touching his back and not quite tugging on his hair.  Jae-ha snapped his gaze up to his not-quite assailant, Gigan.  “It’s okay,” she said.  “I know him.  He works for me.”  Gigan removed her fingers from Jae-ha’s hair and waved at the not-stranger.  “Ming-ju,” she called.  The fat man turned his head to her.  “You look like you’re gonna kill someone, just standing there.”

The man, apparently named Ming-ju, broke into a smile so bright and kind that Jae-ha suddenly had no idea why he was afraid of him.  “Sorry, Ms. Gigan!” he exclaimed.  “I didn’t know when you would be back and I didn’t wanna miss you.  I have some pretty important information for ya!”

Gigan opened her front door and ushered Jae-ha and Ming-ju inside.  “Then wait for me at the dock instead of at my house.  You scared the brat.”

“He didn’t scare me,” Jae-ha retorted.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Gigan quipped as she took the bag of fish from Jae-ha.

“So the rumors were true, huh?” Ming-ju asked.  Gigan raised a curious eyebrow at him.  “About you taking in another runaway slave kid,” he supplied.

“Another?” Jae-ha interrupted.

“Ah, yeah…” Ming-ju chuckled nervously.  Gigan disappeared into the kitchen.  “Awa’s pretty great, but the cities around us and other territories aren’t.  It’s pretty common for runaway slaves to pop up here.”

“S-slaves?” Jae-ha asked.

“Unfortunately…” Ming-ju sighed.  “Wait, weren’t you one?”

“No!” Jae-ha immediately shouted.  “I never was!”

Ming-ju took a step back, a worried smile on his face.  “O-okay, kid, whatever you say.”  He scratched the back of his head, as though he was digging for a way out of the situation.

From the kitchen, the sound of sizzling oil came.  He might as well try to get as much information as he could.  “How far has this rumor about me spread?” Jae-ha questioned.

“Oh, no worries!  Only people in Ms. Gigan’s circle knows,” Ming-ju replied.

“Do you think I know how far that goes?” Jae-ha snapped.  “Or how trustworthy Gigan’s circle is?!”

Ming-ju stared at him, wide-eyed and notably perplexed, before escaping into the kitchen.  “Your kid sure is paranoid,” Ming-ju said, most likely to Gigan.  Jae-ha hurried in after him.

“Can you really blame him?” Gigan inquired just as Jae-ha darted past Ming-ju and arrived in front of her.  She met Jae-ha’s eyes with a collected gaze.  Her kiseru was somewhere out of sight.  There were thirteen small fish in the wok with which she cooked, and the bag which carried the rest of her and Jae-ha’s share of the day’s catch sat alone next to the washing bin.  “Everyone in my circle knows how to keep a secret.  If any danger comes to you because of their talk, I will handle it personally.  Got it?” Gigan told him, so cool and level-minded that Jae-ha couldn’t help the way his heart soared at her promise.

But he wasn’t an idiot.  “Except…” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  For some reason he couldn’t bear to think of, his words were suddenly refusing to form on his tongue.  They struggled to escape back down his throat and into his stomach, where they would never be found again.  Voice quivering with the strain of fighting his own reluctant words, Jae-ha eventually managed to whisper, “Except I don’t know if I can even trust you.”

The fish sizzled alone in the wok.  Gigan’s chopsticks hovered over them, ready to flip them so the scales wouldn’t burn, yet Gigan focused all her attention solely on him.  “You still don’t trust me?” she whispered to him, not a trace of hurt in her voice.

Jae-ha grabbed the ragged hem of his shirt in his hands.  “It’s not… It’s not that easy…”

A silence heavier than ten stones hung in the space between them.  It wasn’t until the smell of burning food wafted into the air that Gigan dared to move.  She flipped the fish, relocated the wok, killed the flame, and then finally spoke.  “It’s a shame, but I understand your hesitance.  Do you want to leave?”

He nodded.  Of course he wanted to leave — leaving was his only choice.  “But,” he mumbled, “I need money.  Enough to survive for a while.  I have to stay until then.”

Gigan mumbled something he couldn’t hear.  Then she said, “Okay,” while she picked up three plates from beside the stove.  “Ming-ju, join us,” she called to the man who stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ming-ju answered.  He rushed to sit down at the low table, hands clutching his knees.  Jae-ha sat across from him, his stomach strangely empty yet full, in need of food but deplete of hunger.  Gigan took her place next to Jae-ha, a confusing comfort to him, and divided up the grilled fish between the plates.  Jae-ha received the largest serving, six fish, while Ming-ju had five and Gigan had a mere two.  Jae-ha stared at his chopsticks, which sat in a small jar in the middle of the table.

“So,” Gigan began, “what important news did you bring for me?”

Ming-ju picked up one of his fish with his much too large hands.  “It’s about that papers business we’ve been investigating.  I think we might have finally found the guy at the top of it all.”

Gigan’s eyebrows shot up.  She reached forward to grab her own pair of chopsticks from the jar.  “Impressive.  Who is he?”

That worried smile reappeared on Ming-ju’s face.  “Well, we’re still trying to confirm his name.  It’s like you say, Ms. Gigan, we don’t want to destroy an innocent person!”

“Destroy?!” Jae-ha accidentally interrupted.  Two pairs of eyes turned on him.  He quickly grabbed his chopsticks and stuffed his mouth with a fish, if only to shut himself up.

“And here I thought you were all for the dire method,” Gigan mumbled.  Jae-ha shifted away from her.  “Jae-ha, do you have any idea what we’re talking about?” she asked.

Jae-ha shook his head.  The fish lay, unbitten, between his teeth.

“Well, first off, do you know why papers are so important?”

Jae-ha shook his head again.  The only papers he was familiar with were the ones in books, painted with ink words that fashioned wonderful stories or important histories.  But no one could possibly want to destroy such important objects.  So probably (hopefully), “papers” referred to something completely different.

“Papers are important for moving across country borders or transporting cargo.  They identify you, your trade, and anything else that might be important.  Without them, you can barely go anywhere, let alone have a business,” Gigan answered.  “You receive them from the government.  But they can be forged.  It’s a corrupt practice that helps vile people like slave-traders.”

Jae-ha opened his mouth and allowed the fish to fall back onto his plate.  It landed with an ugly _clank!_ “So, you — people like you and Ming-ju — you guys are trying to destroy corruption?”

Ming-ju grinned.  Somehow, his meal was already reduced to nothing but fish bones.  “Yep!  If we take down the guy leading the paper-forgery business, we’ll do some damage to the slavers, since they rely on those papers to move around freely.  We’re trying to stop them in their tracks before they get to southern Kai, because once they’re out of Kouka Kingdom, there’s not much we can do.”

“Why not go straight for the slavers?” Jae-ha inquired.  His food was beginning to look appetizing.

Gigan placed her chopsticks down on her plate.  Only one of her two fish had been bitten into, and that one was only half-eaten.  “We would if we could.  But they’re sneaky and rarely stay in one place for a long time.  Our best bet has always been the runaways.  But…” Gigan trailed off.

“But?” Jae-ha encouraged.

“But most of them die,” Gigan finished.

As empty as Jae-ha’s stomach was, he was sure he could barf.  ( _Dead?!  Then what the hell is going to happen to **you**?_ )

“From infection, mostly,” Gigan answered without needing to be asked.  “A lot of them already lose their will to live by the time we find them, too.  You’re the first one who let himself be treated, let alone asked to _work_.”

“…What about the others?” Jae-ha muttered.  “What about the ones who don’t die?”

“…They disappear,” Gigan replied.  “Taken back by their slavers, most likely.  So far, none of the runaways have told us anything about the people who took them, probably because they were too afraid to talk.”  Gigan sent Jae-ha a pointed glance.  He turned his head away.

“…I think it’s time I leave,” Ming-ju suddenly said.  Jae-ha stared at him as he stood up and bowed.  “Thank you for the food, Ms. Gigan.  It was delicious.”

Gigan nodded, not bothering to stand up with him.  “Thank you for your information.  I’ll see you later to pay you.”

“Much appreciated… But, um, be careful about your customers today,” Ming-ju advised.  Gigan raised a curious brow.  “I have intel that one of the guys in the forgery business caught wind of our investigation.  He’s probably going to visit you later today.  So keep an eye out.”

Gigan grinned crookedly.  “I can protect myself.  But thank you for letting me know.”

With that, Ming-ju took his leave.  Jae-ha looked down at his food and decided it was definitely too cold to be eaten.

 

* * *

 

Jae-ha’s pay for the day amounted to five bronze coins.  He had no idea if that was a lot of money or not — currency was not exactly something he had ever handled before.  But all of Gigan’s workers received the same amount, and they seemed happy, so he guessed the coins were valued nicely.  As he walked with Gigan into the western area of Awa (a part of which was called the Woman’s District, apparently), she told him that the daily pay was determined by the amount of money received from selling fish.  She got anything extra from her side job as an information bank, and she typically kept it for herself.

By the time they arrived home, Jae-ha still had all five of his bronze coins and no book to keep him company.  He had to save up and leave as soon as he could, after all.  A book would just slow that down.  Gigan went straight for the counter while Jae-ha walked directly into his room.  He cleaned, she sorted through merchandise he hadn’t noticed before, and it took several hours for someone to interrupt their forced silence.

That someone was a customer.  He was short, skeleton skinny, and had strangely spiky hair.  Not scary in the slightest.  But his right arm was a mere stump shoulder, covered in unsightly stitches (except they were straight and well-kept, so Jae-ha had to secretly commend whoever it was that cared for him).  A few of his teeth were missing and freckles nearly engulfed his face, and Jae-ha could tell how much hell this man had already been through.

“Is this Gigan’s shop?” the customer asked.  His words were muddled and stunted, as though he could just barely hear himself speak.

Gigan crossed her arms and leaned across the countertop.  “Yes.  What can I do for you today?”

The customer pointed to himself.  “Name’s Nuri.  I’m looking for some information.”

Gigan rested her chin in the palm of her hand.  “What kind…?”  There was something new in her voice and posture.  Jae-ha couldn’t quite figure out what it was, but as he watched her from the safety of his doorway, it was like he was watching a mighty god in human flesh as it dealt with a lowly human.  It already knew Nuri’s every move and how to steer him in the right direction.  It was not a power to be opposed.  Jae-ha took a step back and closed his door.

( _You need to run away_.)

“I’m wondering if you know anything about some vigilantes who have been sneaking around in Awa,” Jae-ha heard Nuri say.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gigan immediately replied.

“Yeah, right!” Nuri shouted.  “You’re an information bank, aren’t you?!  You have to know _something_ about them!”

“Business is slow, these days,” Gigan replied calmly.  Jae-ha held tight to his broom, so much so that his knuckles began to ache, and he worried at his lower lip with his teeth.  Why was she lying?  What good could come of it?  She was so stupid.  So stupid!  ( _He’s shouting; he’ll kill her._ )

“Stop lying to me!”  Nuri slammed his fest down on the counter.  Jae-ha’s shoulders jumped.  “I know you got some business with those vigilantes.  Tell me or you’re gonna regret it.”

( _You need to go_.)

Gigan took her time in responding.  Long enough for Jae-ha to crack open his door and peak outside.  She was fine, not an injury in sight, but she was no longer relaxed across the counter.  She stood straight, shoulders squared, gaze steady, her stance full of a strength that Jae-ha figured was fake.  “I trade information for money.  You have to show me what you have for me before I tell you anything.”

Nuri scowled.  “What?  So you can keep lying to me?  Bullshit!  Listen, you’re gonna talk or I’m gonna _make_ you talk!”  Nuri reached behind himself, pulling up his dirty red shirt, and in the sunlight pouring through the two windows a piece of metal glared from his back.

( ** _He_** _needs to go._ )

His legs were moving on their own.  The door slid open wide, the world slowed down, Nuri pulled the knife from his pants.  Jae-ha flew.  He flew to the ceiling, over the heads of the two humans, and his body was not his to control.  ( _What are you doing what are you doing what are you doing — **Destroy him!**_ )  One swift kick with his Ryokuryuu leg, and Nuri’s neck stood no chance against him.  He soared faster than a bee into the nearest wall, sickening cracks sounding with his impact.  The body slid to the floor and slumped.  There was no blood.  Good.  ( **How unfortunate**.)  There was a dent in the wall, however.

“I hate guys like you…” Jae-ha muttered when he landed.  He looked over to Gigan, who stared at Nuri with wide eyes.  “I don’t think he’s dead,” he told her.  “There’d be blood if he was.”

“…How…” she whispered, her fingers brushing over her lips as if the touch was her connection to reality, “How did you do that?”

His conscience snapped back at him instantaneously, screaming at him about _why_ — _why_ did he do that?  _Why_ did he run, jump, kick a man who had nothing to do with him?  Who could have easily taken care of a problem if he hadn’t interfered?  _Why_ did he use his power like that, for anything that wasn’t escape?  _Why_ did he help someone he was going to one day leave behind?  He was stupid.  So stupid!  “Doesn’t matter,” he responded as he balled his hands into fists and dug his nails into his palms.

“It matters!” Gigan explained.  She walked around the counter and crouched down directly in front of him.  “You flew.  And you kicked him so hard that you — he cracked some of the wall boards.  How did you do that?”

Jae-ha bit down on his lower lip.  The world around him was spinning — completely still at a glance, but in complete disarray in his mind’s eye.  His lungs were being breached by the water of fury, burning as it suffocated him.  His stomach was collapsing.  What an idiot he was.

“Jae-ha,” Gigan said calmly, her voice like a lure, “you have to tell me.  There’s no secrets between the people in my crew.”

“Except I’m not a part of your crew!” Jae-ha suddenly shouted.  “I’m just…” His voice dropped into a whisper, and his mouth was moving without a thought to hinder it, “I’m just a monster.”

( _“You really are stupid.  People outside this village will never accept you with this foot.”_ )

“…Ryokuryuu…” Gigan uttered, more to herself than to him.  “The green dragon warrior of legend.  The one with the leg that can jump high into the skies.  You’re…”

( _“Hurry up, go alone!  Fly away!”_ )

Jae-ha did just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a doozy -.-;; And really long! I sincerely hope I didn’t bore anyone with this chapter. There really shouldn’t be any more that’ll be this ridiculous. If it did bore you, tho, please let me know so I can improve!
> 
> As always, comments & critiques are SUPER appreciated! <3


	6. Eulogy for Evolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy tales are rarely ever true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, the song used for this chapter title is “0400″ by Olafur Arnálds, but I thought it’d be strange to give Chapter 6 of the story a number title. Therefore, I used the song’s ablum’s name for the title!
> 
> Warning for slight child abuse in this chapter!

 “What’s this word?”

“That’s ‘mother’.”  Garou readjusted his leg and pulled Jae-ha closer, making the child snug against his chest.  The two dragon warriors sat next the water basin and what little reading material they had, Garou with his back against the wall and Jae-ha curled up in his lap.  It was a regular day in the season of approaching winter — the air outside was the perfect mix of warm and chilled, and in an attempt to escape the latter condition, the Ryokuryuus preferred to remain as close to each other as possible.  Garou’s hands, large and bony, curled around Jae-ha’s stomach.  His skin was cold like the outside, but what little body warmth he had spread over Jae-ha’s back, a promise of protection in the form of heat.  “Geez… you’re five years old already.  Why are you so bad at reading?” Garou complained as he poked the scroll in Jae-ha’s hands.  Just a few days before, he had pilfered it from a villager’s hut during some old lady’s funeral procession.  Garou had said it was an easy read, a simple story about a family and their dumb animals, but Jae-ha couldn’t help that he struggled.

“It’s difficult!” he exclaimed.  Garou rested his chin on Jae-ha’s head, and Jae-ha kicked Garou’s ankle with the heel of his human foot.  “All these words look the same.”

“Maybe you’re blind, then.  They’re all different,” Garou quickly rebutted.  He tilted his head down until his lips were pressed against the crown of Jae-ha’s hair, not quite in a kiss but more like they simply belonged there.

“No way,” Jae-ha protested.  “There’s no point in having a blind dragon warrior.”

Garou mumbled something in response, but his words were muffled by Jae-ha’s hair.  Jae-ha could only make out something about “pointless” and “dragon.”

“We’re supposed to fight for somebody, right?” Jae-ha continued.  He rolled up the scroll in his hands and placed it on the ground beside Garou’s knee.  “You and me would be useless without being able to see.”

Suddenly, Garou’s fingers tightened their grip, digging into Jae-ha’s stomach, nails stealing his breath.  Jae-ha eyed the shackles that were just a few steps away and dared not to move, even as his skin burned, rebelling against the pain being inflicted to it.  Garou was scary when he was upset — very, very scary — but he was better than those chains, so much better.

“I-I’m sorry,” Jae-ha managed to say, even though he could barely breath enough to speak.  He put his hands over Garou’s, and eventually, scarily slowly, his stomach was released.  But just as Jae-ha breathed in, he was up in the air, carried not by his foot but by Garou, who threw him back down in the same breath.  Jae-ha landed with his head hitting the stone wall and his hands brushing against a familiar threadbare mat.  He heard a rattle, and realized with a gasp that the chains were around him, those dangerous pieces of metal that whispered to him at night about the futility of hope and life and other things he didn’t understand but knew to fear.  Ignoring the throbbing in the back of his head, he prepared to jump away, to the other corner of the hut, where the wash basin and the stories were, where he had just been, wrapped up in what little body heat Garou could offer.  But before he could get his dragon foot on the ground, Garou’s large hand was gripping his scaled ankle and he was on his back as Garou lifted the dragon leg.  “Please don’t!” Jae-ha pleaded, trying to wriggle his way out of Garou’s grasp.  “I’m sorry, Garou!  I’m sorry!”  Tears were falling from his eyes, dripping into his ears, while his nose filled with too much snot to breathe through.  “I’m sorry I said something bad, please don’t put the chains on me!  Please!  GAROU!”

As though his shouted name was a magic spell, Garou suddenly stopped.  In the tense air surrounding him, he gradually lowered Jae-ha’s foot.  He spoke not a word.  Jae-ha couldn’t see his face through his long, dirty bangs, but his arm was shaking.  Jae-ha managed to plant his hands on the ground and began to push himself up to sit.  Yet, despite it all, Garou still attached a shackle to Jae-ha’s dragon ankle.  He did not move to grab the key from its pot so he could fasten the lock, however.

“…I’m…” Garou spoke, barely above a whisper, voice no stronger than stick.  “I’m hungry… I’ll go… ask for food…”  His face, once again shrouded by hair, betrayed nothing, but his presence — a desolate green that shone within Jae-ha’s mind — cried and cried, a pitiful giant that tore at Jae-ha’s heart like the muscle was its last meal.  Jae-ha wiped away his tears with the back of his arm while Garou slowly stood up and left their tiny hut.  Jae-ha pulled his knees up to his face, arms hugging his legs, and waited.

 

* * *

 

Their meal, as it turned out, was seven raw eggs.  Garou took five of them, cracked them open, and poured out their contents into their meal bowl.  He mixed them together with a spoon with a stump handle, then sprinkled some tiny green leaves over them to make them more edible.  That was Jae-ha’s feast.  Garou himself ate the other two eggs straight from the shells.  Jae-ha hated the taste, and the leaves made the texture strange on his tongue, but he swallowed it all down.  The two Ryokuryuus did not speak until well into the evening, when the moon was about to defeat the falling sun, and Jae-ha was already hearing the whispers of his chains.

Garou was the first to talk.  From his place on the stone floor, where he lay on his side like a fallen tree, he muttered Jae-ha’s name.  Jae-ha, sitting against the wall with his chains locked on him for the night, scooted forward, more than ready to hear someone else’s voice.

“What is it, Garou?” he asked, if only to encourage his predecessor.

“I’ve never told you the legend of Hiryuu and the four dragons, have I…?”

“You mean there’s more of us?”

Garou sat up at Jae-ha’s question.  “Not really,” he replied.  Garou scooted over to Jae-ha and held out his hands, offering them.  Without a second thought, Jae-ha grabbed them.  Soon enough, Garou was the one sitting on the threadbare mat while Jae-ha was seated comfortably in his lap.  Warmth enveloped Jae-ha’s back, and he hummed in happiness.  Garou draped his arms over Jae-ha’s shoulders, his hands far from Jae-ha’s stomach.

“We live in a country called Kouka,” Garou began.  “Legend has it that when the land was at its worst, full of hatred and bloodshed, the Red Dragon God descended from Heaven and became a human.  Hiryuu wished to bring peace to this country and be its king.  It was a stupid idea.  People rebelled against him and tried to execute them.  But the idiot still claimed to love them, and refused to let his other dragon god buddies take him back and destroy the people.  So the dragon gods decided to find some humans to fight for Hiryuu in their place.  Those four humans were stupid enough to drink the gods’ blood, too.”

“What were their names?” Jae-ha interrupted.

“Hakuryuu, Seiryuu, Ryokuryuu, and Ouryuu,” Garou answered patiently.  “Hakuryuu took the power of the god in his right hand, and has sharp claws that can tear anything apart.  Seiryuu has the gods’ powers in his eyes so he can see into far distances.  You and me are Ryokuryuus.  We can jump high into the skies if we wanted to.  Ouryuu has a strong body that can never be injured.”

“Are they with us?” Jae-ha inquired.  “Are they somewhere in the village, too?”

Garou went silent for a long time.  But Jae-ha stared and him and waited for him to speak again.  “Hiryuu died,” he said abruptly.  “So the dragon warriors, afraid or something of how much stronger they were than people, went their separate ways.  Far as I know, we haven’t seen each other ever since.”

“Why don’t we go find them, then?  Don’t you think we should all be together?”

Garou shifted so he could wrap his arms around Jae-ha in a tense hug.  “Legend says we’re supposed to wait for Hiryuu.  He’s supposed to come back for us.  But he…” Garou tightened the hug, though not nearly enough to put Jae-ha in any pain, “he doesn’t want us.”

Jae-ha put his hands over Garou’s arms, chains rattling with the movement.  “What do you mean…?”

“Think about it,” Garou responded, his voice carrying steel.  “If Hiryuu was as kind as the legend makes him out to be, then why —” he began shaking, “— why hasn’t he come for us?  Why would he leave us in these damned chains?  He’s left us to just be monsters without purpose.  He never actually cared for us…”

Jae-ha bit his bottom lip.  _That can’t be true_ , he wanted to say.  But, then, what was the truth?  The chains said the same things Garou did — that the Ryokuryuus were just monsters, that they had no place to go, no place to belong.  But that didn’t seem right.  There was a purpose for them to have the dragons blood, wasn’t there?  They couldn’t just be monsters.

But Jae-ha had no idea how to say what he thought.  They were tough words to think, let alone to speak.  So instead, he turned in Garou’s arms and wrapped his own around Garou’s neck.  Garou accepted him, and with his tears, soaked Jae-ha’s shoulder in seconds.


	7. Lost Kitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can never quite tear himself away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You’ve got my eyes, you’ve got my eyes  
> You’ll never be mine, ah  
> But you’ve got my eyes”  
> \- Lost Kitten, by Metric (this song is more like Gigan’s feelings about Jae-ha than vice versa)

Two days after his escape.  An old mother, with her attention totally transfixed on her wailing child, failed to notice her orange-gold bandana falling from her head.  When it floated to the ground, totally abandoned by her, Jae-ha picked it up and hurried away into the narrow alleyways, so she would never know.  He pulled out the old string he used to keep his ponytail together and then began twisting his hair into a circular bun like the old mother’s ( _and Gigan’s_ ).  The string rebelled when he tried to tie it back in, but he made it work, and then covered his hair with the orange-gold bandana.

Five days after his escape.  Finding a place to sleep was no easy task, since the ground was rough and the roofs were just plain uncomfortable.  But even at night, people walked around and haggled anyone who tried to rest in the roads, so Jae-ha always opted for the rooftops.  He woke up with the sun, because it burned both his eyes and his skin from his place of absolutely no shade.  As he walked around, searching for food and work, he discovered that Awa could be split up into the four directions, and each side was incredibly different from the last.  Merchants sprawled in the city, easy to find no matter where he went, but they were especially focused in the west.  Homeless men were just as prolific, but they tended to center themselves in the eastern side, where most of the smaller houses were.  They rarely bothered a soul, letting families live their lives unafraid of the wreckage of men.  The south contained the mountains and abandoned houses, so plenty of poorer tourists could find their place there (and they always shared their food with Jae-ha if he asked, so he would divvy out some of his money to them even if they didn’t ask).  The north was the harbor, where Gigan’s home stood, plain in comparison to everything else around it.  Jae-ha never went there.

A week and a half after his escape.  The western side of Awa was much more colorful than the rest, with ornate windowsills colored in red, green, or blue, and yellow tiled roofs that sounded like clanging bricks when he stepped on them. Tarps were pinned to certain buildings, telling every passerby what the establishment was — a brothel, a restaurant, an ironsmith.  Jae-ha, with his most telling features covered, found work in various places, helping with their odd jobs and receiving pay for every little thing he did. “Can I help you with anything,” as it turned out, yielded a surprising amount of agreeableness, so long as it was followed by, “I’m saving up to buy my momma something nice” or some other terrible lie.  But he never returned to any specific place, unless asked to by the owner, because nobody needed a monster to stick around.

Two weeks after his escape.  He found Nuri, the skinny bastard he had kicked into a wall.  He was still skeleton skinny, and he was still missing his teeth, but his menacing aura was long gone.  His feet were tripping over each other in a swaying, sickly kind of walk, and he had a ghostly moan that followed him for every misguided step he took. Stuffing a yummy pork bun in his mouth, Jae-ha decided to follow him.  He tottered into the southeastern corner of Awa, where the town officers in their deep red robes liked to patrol and become roaring drunks.  Anyone who passed him ignored him, even when his moan turned into brief cries for someone named Mei.  Remaining on the rooftops, Jae-ha kept out of everyone’s sights as he trailed after Nuri.  But, soon enough, Nuri disappeared into a small building whose stone walls were patterned in cracks.  Through paper doors with sky blue woodwork, Nuri tumbled, and a large man with bushy eyebrows exited, turning his head a few times to check for people in the street.  There were only two officers, who had their backs turned to him.  Apparently satisfied, the man spun around and re-entered the building, closing the doors behind him.

“That must be the papers-forging business…” Jae-ha mumbled to himself. Finishing the pork bun, he flew away. This was not his concern.

(The next day, Jae-ha found himself on the rooftop across from the small building again, but the doors were knocked to the ground, people were shouting inside, and Jae-ha spotted Ming-ju dragging away Nuri.)

Nearly three weeks after his escape.  It was difficult, choosing between new clothes or a book.  In the center of Awa, a traveling merchant had set up shop, sitting on a pretty red blanket with a variety of books and some small cat statues. One of the books was a legend about the original Ryokuryuu, his daring escapades and many loves!  As much as Jae-ha wanted to leave behind his damned heritage, the story itself was too intriguing to ignore.  Almost directly across from the traveling merchant was a clothier, showing off her new wares by having a boy, girl, man, and woman model them in front of her store.  The boy’s clothes intrigued Jae-ha the most — the shirt was in the same style as Jae-ha’s, a short robe, embroidered along the flaps, and tied at the waist with a cloth belt.  But the boy’s shirt was a riveting blue, much unlike Jae-ha’s plain green, and the embroidery shimmered silver, like the moon on a cloudless night.  The pants were a regular sepia, also like Jae-ha’s, but they were intact, something which he very much needed.  Checking between the traveling merchant and the clothier revealed that both of his desired items were about the same price, but that he didn’t have nearly enough to buy both.  Jae-ha crouched down in front of the books, feeling his coins through the cloth of a small sack he had stolen, as he tried to figure out his next course of action.

That was when he saw the traveler pull out what looked like a calendar. Out of curiosity, Jae-ha asked him what the date was.  The traveler answered him kindly and cheerfully.  Jae-ha’s legs gave out from under him.

“Whoa, kid!  You alright?” the traveler asked, leaning forward and reaching out a helpful hand.

Jae-ha looked down, refusing the assistance.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  I just can’t believe that it’s been so long…”

The traveler pulled back.  “Is the date that important?”

Jae-ha contemplated his answer for a few moments before shaking his head. “No, not really...”

It was his birthday.

A month after his escape.  Ever since Gigan had discovered his true identity, Jae-ha had strained his ears to hear every word spoken by every person near him.  He made sure to avoid any one from Gigan’s crew, yet he would follow them, sometimes, just to know what it was they talked about.  But not once did Jae-ha ever hear his name, the mention of Ryokuryuu, or even a description that sounded anything like him. Nobody was looking for him.  Gigan wasn’t searching for him.  He should have known.

One day, he found Byung-ho and Min-ki walking around the marketplace, near the harbor.  He stood within their line of sight, and waited.  Min-ki, the beautiful black-haired man, spotted him first.  He poked Byung-ho’s shoulder and pointed to where Jae-ha stood.  Byung-ho, the boisterous blonde, smiled widely and waved at Jae-ha.  Min-ki waved, as well, with a subdued grin.  But then they turned around, and then they left. They didn’t want him.  Nobody wanted him.  He should have known.

He found himself in front of Gigan’s home.  It was exactly as he remembered it — made of wood, unlike all the stone and plaster buildings around it, giving off the distinct feeling of something totally temporary.  It was small, but well kept, and unmarked, so that it was easy to mistake for a home instead of an actual business.  Jae-ha slid his hand into the small space between the door and the wall that Gigan left whenever she was home, pulled the door open, and entered boldly.

Gigan was behind the counter, dressed in a faded pink, long-sleeved cheongsam.  She smoked her kiseru and looked upon Jae-ha with a surprising amount of disinterest. “So you decided to come back, huh?” she asked, her voice difficult to interpret.  She leaned across the counter, resting her weight on her forearm, and she was the very impression of casual, like her life wouldn’t have changed whether Jae-ha returned to her or not.

Jae-ha forced himself to keep eye contact with her, even though everything inside him begged him to look away from her and the disappointment she must feel at the mere sight of him.  “Nobody was looking for me…” he managed to mumble out, “I got curious.”

Gigan turned her head.  Jae-ha followed her line of sight to the wall, where he had mercilessly kicked Nuri. The area had been fixed up with wood much younger than the wood that made the rest of the house, yellow in comparison to the elder brown, but, other than that, there was no sign that Jae-ha had ever been there.  No books he could have left behind (like the novel about the original Ryokuryuu he had bought), clothes, or memories.  He knew it had just been two days with her, barely enough to leave his mark, but it had been a kind eternity to him, more memorable than any trauma.  He had begun to heal twelve years within two days, yet he had wasted it away in a month.  What a shameful idiot he was.

“What about Nuri?” he asked, remembering the shell of the man he had once watch threaten a woman with a knife.  “What happened after…”  _after I ran away_ , trailed in the air, unspoken but known.

“He didn’t remember a thing,” Gigan answered.  He heard her tap her kiseru against the ash box.  “You gave him a bit of a concussion, but he wasn’t hurt too badly. He was like a completely different man when he came to.  Asked me why he was there, and I told ‘im that he was looking to buy something from me, but he tripped and hit his head before he could tell me.  He believed me.  Said it was just like him to get hurt when he was looking for something, especially if it was for his girl.”

“H-his girl?” Jae-ha stared at Gigan, but she kept her eyes on the wall.

“Yeah.  He told me all about her.  She’s named Mei, and he wants to marry her.  But she got sick, and the only cure is in the northern mountains of Kai.  Her family took her there.  They’re rich, so nobody was gonna put up much of a fuss if they crossed the border, but Nuri… Well, you can probably tell just by looking at him.  It’d take a lot just to get him out of the Earth Tribe, not to mention the country. He’s been able to talk to her with letters, but from what he told me, doesn’t sound like she’s been getting any better.  She’s probably dead by now, really…”

He could remember Nuri’s cry for someone named Mei so clearly, it was almost as if he was right outside.  Jae-ha turned around and checked through the open door, but there was no sight or sound of Nuri.  All there was were people walking and talking, living their own lives, accepting their ignorance of the boy who stood in Gigan’s doorway, an orange-gold bandana hiding his hair and cloth wrapped around his right foot.  From somewhere far away, there was a man shouting, his words indistinct but his tone mournful.  As clear as clouds, Jae-ha could see a dead man’s face, telling him to run while he still could.  ( _“Idiooooot!!  Who would go with the likes of you?!”_ )

“So he was so cruel…” Jae-ha began.

“Because he loved someone so much, he lost sight of reality,” Gigan finished.

Jae-ha looked at the repaired wall again.  He no longer heard Nuri — instead, he heard a voice he was already beginning to forget, belonging to a man just as skinny, with a cursed limb.  ( _“I have already gotten tired of you!  Leave!”_ ) It had been so long since had thought of him… A month and a few days, and he was already being forgotten.  ( _Just how little did you love him?_ )

Jae-ha’s stomach crumbled in on itself.  He wrapped his arms around his waist, wondering why he suddenly wanted to cry. “Doesn’t that mean we took away his only chance…?” he whispered.

“Don’t start thinking like that!” Gigan suddenly scolded.  He heard her tap her kiseru against the ash box again, then set down the pipe, then walk away from the counter.  She appeared in front of him, but he wouldn’t look away from the wall.  “Nuri wasn’t the only person in the papers forging business.  He might’ve just been working with them to go see Mei, but what about the rest of them?  Some of them were kidnappers, rapists, murderers, and all they wanted was a way to run away from their crimes!  Even if they had sob stories, does that really excuse their actions?”

Jae-ha was silent.  No, of course it didn’t.  Criminals were criminals, monsters were monsters.  Their mere existence was inexcusable.  But what if they never had a choice?  What if they had to run away in order to survive?  What if sacrifice was the only way they could be free?  Did they still not deserve forgiveness?  ( _“Hiryuu’s supposed to come back for us.  But he… he doesn’t want us.”_ )

“Why… why didn’t you come looking for me?” Jae-ha whispered before he knew what he was saying.  His heart wanted to burst from his chest.

“…Because it was your choice, Jae-ha,” Gigan answered.  Her sharp fingernails tickled his chin and he finally looked up at her.  She squatted so they could meet eye to eye.  “You came to me of your own free will, you can leave of your own free will, too.”

“But you know what I am.  Don’t you want to use my power for your own gain?”

Gigan grinned.  “Of course I do.  But I’m not going to force you.  This is your life.  I won’t dare take your freedom.”

He tried to reply to the sweet expression she was showing him, but when he tried to speak, he instead sniffled and rubbed at his watery eyes.  He had to say something.  There was a thumping in his chest and a sickness in his stomach and a prickling in his eyes that told him that he had to say something.  So he took a deep breath and let the words spill out without a single thought behind them.

“I missed you.”

Gigan’s face immediately shifted into shock, but it was just as quickly melted into what might be heartfelt affection.

“I missed you, too.”

He was accepted.  She didn’t want to hurt him.  He should have known.

* * *

 

           The next day was better.  He woke up in his room, protected from the sun and more rested than he had been for a long time.  The place had gathered even more dust since he had left it, but he had cleaned it thoroughly upon his return — Gigan had even given him a wet washrag to get the corners.  When he woke up, he rolled off the sleeping mat, blanket held tight to his chest, and he took his sweet time to bother sitting up.  As soon as he convinced himself to make the effort to ready himself for the day, he folded the blanket and placed it back on the mat, hid his hair under the bandana, and re-wrapped his dragon foot with the cleaning rag he had taken a month ago.  He could hear the town bustling on the other side of the wall.  Curious.  He hurried out of his room, and the first thing that greeted him was the sight of Gigan, dressed again in her faded pink cheongsam, leaning against the counter as she counted through coins in her palms.  She turned her head when Jae-ha opened the door.

           “Oh, you finally woke up.  Sleep well?” she greeted.

           Daylight was streaming through the windows, bright but with a hint of shadow, as if it was afternoon.  “H-how long was I asleep?”

           “Awhile,” Gigan replied.  “I tried to wake you up when it was time to go catch fish, but you were fast asleep. I figured I could let you rest. You must not’ve gotten much sleep while you were gone.”

           Jae-ha rubbed his cheek, his head still heavy with sleep.  With how badly his skin had burned and how often his stomach had rumbled on the nights he had forgone dinner, he really hadn’t been able to manage any proper rest.  But he had never quite realized just how little sleep he had actually gotten. “Yeah.  Guess not.”

           “Well, you’re awake now.  Let’s get to shopping,” Gigan declared, dropping her coins into a plain, tiny sack that sat open on the counter.  Jae-ha stepped over to her side while she pulled the sack closed with a string.

           “What about food?  I’m hungry,” Jae-ha complained.  He patted his empty stomach for emphasis.

           Dropping the sack into an equally plain bag that hung on her shoulder, Gigan replied, “Then we’ll buy food first.  What are you in the mood for?”

           “Pork buns!” Jae-ha immediately replied, excitement suddenly coursing through his otherwise tired body.  “I had some the other day and they were so so so good!”

           Gigan glanced at him and mumbled, mostly to herself, “I knew you had put on some weight…”  Then she spoke up with, “Oh, right, more boars start popping up around now. Apples should be in season now, then. Let’s buy both.”

           “Sure!” Jae-ha agreed.  He hurried back into his room to gather his own sack and hide it in his shirt, then rushed to follow Gigan outside, closing the front door behind him.  “What will we be shopping for?” he questioned while they began walking westward.

           “If you’re gonna be sticking around, then I need to make sure you get all the things you need,” Gigan answered.

           Warmth bloomed in Jae-ha’s chest, like the first flower of spring.  “Like what?”

           Gigan began counting on her fingers.  “Lotion, new clothes, bandages, medicine…”

           Jae-ha looked at his wrists at the mention of medicine.  They were still wrapped up in cloth from when Gigan had treated his wounds.  He had no idea how they had managed to remain covered for so long, but they had served as nice reminders during his more difficult days.

           “Hey,” Gigan interjected, “why the hell are you still wearing those?  You didn’t need to keep them for that long.”

           Jae-ha shrugged.  “I thought they would fall off on their own.”

           Gigan sighed.  “Idiot.” She stopped walking, and Jae-ha stood beside her.  Palm to the sky, she waved her hand towards herself, signaling that she wanted him to give something to her.  He held out his hands and she untied the cloth around his wrists, gathering the strips into a wad.

           “Whoa…” Jae-ha unconsciously uttered.  It had been a month since he had last looked at his injured wrists, and in that time, they had changed substantially.  No longer were they caked in half-formed scabs and open skin — instead they had healed over, white where his wrists were nearly finished recovering, brownish red where the scabs had appeared, but mostly pink where the skin was starting to reform.  The beginnings of lasting scars could be seen under the base of his palms, where the shackles had been tight enough to cut him time and time again.  The scars were lighting flashes imprinted upon him, except red and rising above his skin, and experience told him that they would fade but they would leave their mark.

           “The medicine certainly did its job,” Gigan commented.  “I’d say another month or two and it’ll be like the injury was never there.”

           Jae-ha pulled down his sleeves, trying to cover his wrists before a passerby took interest.  “Nah, they’ll definitely scar.  But… thank you, for the medicine.  They probably would look a lot worse if it weren’t for you.”

           Gigan dropped the wad of cloth into her bag.  “Look at you, acting so mature.  Don’t tell me you actually grew up in just a month.”

           Jae-ha knitted his brows, not understanding what she meant.  “I’m thirteen now.”

           Gigan frowned.  “Eh? You told me you were twelve.”

           Jae-ha shook his head.  “My birthday was a week ago.  I’m thirteen.”

           “What?” Gigan asked, accusatory in her tone.  “You celebrated all alone or something?”

           “I bought myself a book…” Jae-ha mumbled.

           Gigan sighed and tapped his head with the knuckle of her pointer finger.  “Next time, let me know when it’s your birthday.”

           “Uh, alright…” Jae-ha didn’t understand why she was making such a big deal out of his birthday.  It had always been a signal of death, a reminder of Garou’s fate, an anniversary of a curse.  Even though he was long gone from Ryokuryuu Village, his mere existence couldn’t possibly warrant celebration, could it?

           “Okay, let’s get moving, then,” Gigan said.  She adjusted the strap of her bag and started walking again. Jae-ha followed at her side. Together, they made their way into the northwestern part of Awa, where seagulls liked to mingle with the people and there was an overwhelming sense of unity among everyone.  As they walked around, buying pork buns and apples, several passersby recognized Gigan and greeted her.  Even though Jae-ha didn’t know any of them, nor did they know him, he made sure to bow his head in a silent salutation to them.  He passed on his name to the handful of people who thought to ask, and entertained himself with pebbles whenever Gigan was pulled aside for conversation.  Eventually, they reached a bald man with an abnormally large neck, who stood in the doorway of a tall but narrow building.

           “Hey, there, Gigan!” the bald man welcomed.  “I was starting to wonder when I’d get to see your pretty face again.”

           “Flattery will get you nowhere,” Gigan replied, bland but with no obvious malice.  “What do you have for me today, In-sik?”

           The bald man, apparently named In-sik, grinned proudly.  “Anything you need!  Are you buying for yourself?”

           “Nope,” Gigan replied.  She patted Jae-ha’s head.  “I’m buying for this kid.”

           In-sik’s forehead creased with worry.  “Really, Gigan?  Another one?”

           “He’ll be sticking around for a while,” Gigan countered.

           In-sik sighed.  “Well, whatever you say.”  He focused his gaze on Jae-ha.  “Name’s In-sik.  Nice to meet you.”

           When In-sik bowed his head, Jae-ha repeated the gesture.  “I’m Jae-ha.  Nice to meet you.”

           In-sik gave Jae-ha a time-weary smile before turning around and entering the building.  Gigan went inside and Jae-ha stepped in after her.  The immediate scene before him was an overpowering one — each wall was lined with nine skinny shelves, all packed to their fullest with jars and leaves and bags. The room itself was narrow, a given due to the shape of the building, yet it was made even more constricting by the table the In-sik stood behind, so that the walkway available to customers forced them to stand in a line and invade each other’s space if they needed to move from their spots.  Luckily, it was just Gigan, Jae-ha, and In-sik inside, so Jae-ha could keep his body away from the adults.  He remained at the doorway, standing and watching Gigan peruse the shop’s wares. She obviously knew a lot more about the place than he did, so he was fine with letting her do all the shopping (even if she was, apparently, buying for him).

           “So what’re you looking for today?” In-sik asked, watching Gigan as she picked out a few thin and sharp leaves, examined them, and then put them back.

           “Skin care and medicine,” Gigan replied.  She stepped over to Jae-ha and cautiously placed a hand on his back. Her touch still burned, was still dreadfully unfamiliar and threatening, but Jae-ha gulped down his fear, took a deep breath, and waited for his body to relax.  Gigan paused, probably gauging his reaction, and then smiled a little at him. “The kid here burns way too easily,” she said to In-sik, even though she was looking at Jae-ha.

           In-sik chuckled.  “I can see that.  You’d think his skin was bursting into flames with how red it is.”  Gigan nodded and turned her gaze to In-sik.  “So you want something to protect his skin?”

           Gigan walked up to the table, gently pushing Jae-ha along.  “And something to help it heal.”

           In-sik hummed and left the table, going to the wall directly across from the doorway and searching the shelves.  “Just for the sunburn or are you looking for something more general?”

           “Something for the sunburn and something for injuries,” Gigan answered. She turned her eyes to Jae-ha. “Maybe something to help with bruises, as well?”

           Was she asking for his opinion?  Jae-ha shrugged, unsure of how to answer.  He bruised easily, that was certain, but they weren’t much of a bother.  He actually preferred them, since they didn’t entail seeing his skin torn open.

           “No need for medicine for bruises, In-sik,” Gigan said.

           In-sik pulled out two jars, one carrying pink goop and the other green paste. “Just sunburn and injuries?” he asked as he placed the jars on the table.

           “Don’t you have some skin-whitening lotion?” Gigan questioned in turn.

           “Yeah,” In-sik responded, “it’s been a big hit with the ladies.  You buying some for yourself?”

           “Do I look like I need it?” Gigan immediately retorted, a blade in her tone.

           “No!” In-sik said, a little too quickly.  “No, of course not, Gigan.”

           “Hmph.  That’s what I thought.”  She patted Jae-ha’s head.  “The lotion’s for him.”

           In-sik blinked.  “Wh-what? You can’t be serious.”

           “I’m very serious.”  Jae-ha could swear he saw a twinkle in Gigan’s eyes.

           In-sik’s expression fell into one of awe and terror.  “Kid!” he exclaimed, staring at Jae-ha.  “How old are you?”

           “Thirteen,” Jae-ha answered promptly.  He avoided In-sik’s eyes and instead watched the jars on the table. Something told him that he absolutely did not want to be involved in whatever was about to happen between the adults.

           “He’s thirteen!” In-sik shouted.  “He’s almost a man and yet you wanna make him  _pretty_?”

           “Of course,” Gigan calmly countered.  “I know he doesn’t look it right now, but he’s got the makings of a looker.  I can’t let him ruin that before he even has a chance to court a lady.”

           In-sik sighed loudly.  “Really? You’re making this about courtship? Listen, Gigan, ladies really don’t care that much about if a guy is attractive or not.”

           “We care a lot,” Gigan snapped.

           In-sik sputtered.  “A-anyway! If he’s really that much of a looker, then he’s probably already had a lady by now, don’t you think?”

           “He’s  _thirteen_ , In-sik.  Don’t be disgusting,” Gigan grumbled.

           “Hey!  Jae-ha!” In-sik called, clearly ignoring Gigan.  Jae-ha spared him a glance.  “Have you ever been with a lady?”

           Jae-ha crossed his arms.  That was, officially, the dumbest question he had ever heard.  “No.  I’m not allowed to reproduce.”  He turned on his heel to examine the shelves next to him.  “Besides, being pretty sounds nice.”  It wouldn’t do much to hide the scales that cursed his right leg, but it was better than nothing.  He thought of Bora, and how much she liked his green hair, and wondered if she would approve of him having a clear face, as well.

           “You heard the kid,” Gigan interjected.  “Bring out the lotion so I can pay for it.”

           In-sik grumbled, but didn’t object any further.  Soon enough, they were finally free of the narrow building, Gigan carrying her purchases in her bag while Jae-ha scratched at his wrists. They itched so badly that they nearly seared his already traumatized skin.  He did his best to not damage the scabbed areas, even though they were the most bothersome, but only scratching at the general periphery of his injuries did nothing to alleviate the annoying itchiness.  He bit his bottom lip and tried to control himself.  Suddenly, a hand clamped down on his forearm, no actual strength behind the grip but abrupt enough to surprise Jae-ha from his thoughts.

           “Stop scratching,” Gigan scolded.  She released his arm and frowned down at him.  “We still need to wash the wounds and cover them again. Don’t go making your injuries worse. Try to at least wait until we get home.”

           It was strange for Jae-ha to hear Gigan refer to her home as if he shared it. Sure, he had basically agreed to remain with her for a while longer (his ears burned at the memory of him crying and admitting to her that he missed her, as if he was her infant son and they had just been separated in the market place), but neither of them knew how long that stay would be.  It could be another month, or another year, but he doubted any amount of time shared between them could constitute them actually having a  _home_ together.  He could live in her house for a decade, but he doubted it would ever become a home (because the only home he had ever had had gone crazy when he was five).  But he didn’t speak a word of his qualms and instead nodded, agreeing to not scratch his wrists until he and Gigan returned to  _her_ home.

           “Good.  Then, let’s go get you something for your hair.  You look ridiculous in that bandana,” Gigan continued, suddenly walking two steps faster than Jae-ha.  He caught up easily, however.

           “What?  No I don’t,” Jae-ha defended, touching the crown of his head with his hands.  “I just wanted to hide my hair.”

           “You don’t need to do that,” Gigan objected.  “You look pretty when it’s out in the open.  Keep it that way.”

           It was embarrassing how quickly she could convince him.  “Fine…” he grumbled as he began to untie the knot of his bandana. “But what am I supposed to do if people ask why it’s  _green_?” So far in his life in Awa, he had yet to spot a single person who didn’t have brown, blonde, or black hair.  There were a few people with a red shimmer to their locks, but never anything resembling green.

           “Just pretend its hair dye,” Gigan replied.

           “What?  You can do that?”

           “For a hefty price, yes.”

           “Do I look like somebody who could afford that?”

           “No, but I do.”  Gigan smirked and Jae-ha couldn’t help but laugh.

           “You’re sly, you know,” Jae-ha complimented.

           “I have to be,” Gigan commented, her smirk faulting slightly.

           “Hm? What do you mean by that?”  Jae-ha finally managed to pull off his bandana and, after handing it to Gigan, who put it in her bag, began working at the slipshod bun he had put his hair in.

           Her smirk fell completely, but not into a frown — rather, it was like a sad smile, made of countless memories, beautiful and breaking, yet not totally unfortunate. “It’s the way of life around here. I’ll tell you later.  Promise.”

           Jae-ha tugged his hair out of the bun.  “Okay…” he mumbled, not sure if he should be excited or worried by her promise.

           Gigan took a quick right turn and they appeared in front of a stall, where a woman who looked like Bora stood behind the counter.  She wore a faded yellow kimono made of a patchwork of fabric and had familiar crinkles around her eyes, but her hair, while the same brown color as Bora’s, was cut short in a cute bob.  She was also shorter than Bora, who had towered over Jae-ha, while she was just about Jae-ha’s height.  She brightened into a friendly, if not a bit tired, smile, upon seeing the customers.

           “Good afternoon, Gigan,” the lady greeted, bowing respectfully.  Gigan and Jae-ha returned the gesture.  “It’s so nice to see you, as always.”

           “You’re as lovely as always, Bo-young,” Gigan complimented in turn.  “Has your family been well?”

           The lady placed a hand on her sagging cheek.  “For the most part.  Maya has fallen ill again, but my husband’s sure he’ll swing back in no time.  My son’s tough, you know!”

           Gigan chuckled.  “That’s for certain.  How old is he now?”

           “Six years old.  Amazing, isn’t it?”

           “Definitely.”  Gigan placed a hand on Jae-ha’s back, her fingernails combing through his loose hair slightly.  “I wonder if he and this kid would be good friends.”

           “Oh! Is he a new runaway?  It’s a pleasure to meet you, my name is Bo-young,” the lady said, smiling at Jae-ha.

           “I’m Jae-ha,” he introduced himself.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

           Gigan’s hand glided across Jae-ha’s hair, fingernails playing against the strands like they were the strings of an instrument, until it reached behind his left ear.  “He’ll be staying with me for a while.  Do you have anything for this mangy hair of his?” she asked as she guided his hair to rest over his right shoulder.  It was strangely nice to have his hair toyed with.

           “You know I do!” Bo-young exclaimed, a hint of a giggle in her voice.  She reached into a space under the counter and pulled out a thin-tooth comb, plain and black.  “Would you like something to tie your hair with?” Bo-young questioned, looking at Jae-ha.

           “Um…” Jae-ha looked at the tired string in his hand.  “Anything is fine, I guess,” he answered.

           “A ribbon,” Gigan intervened.  She pulled out the bandana from her bag, holding it out for Bo-young to look at.  “Something of this color, if you please.”

           Bo-young grinned.  “What a lovely color,” she commented as she grabbed an old, but nicely decorated, box from the corner of the counter.  Jae-ha watched as she removed a roll of orange-gold ribbon from the box and measured out a strip to about her arm’s length.  The ribbon was made of cotton, and it was a tinge more yellow than his bandana, but it had a certain sheen to it.  With a small knife, Bo-young cut the strip and folded it and placed it next to the comb. “You’ll look so lovely with this ribbon, Jae-ha,” she said before telling Gigan the price.

           “Very lovely indeed,” Gigan commented, smiling down at him with affection so strong, he could feel it on his cheeks.

           “…Th-thank you,” Jae-ha muttered while Gigan dropped the proper amount of coins into Bo-young’s waiting palm.  He wasn’t sure if either lady heard him, but he was sure they could see the nerves which fluttered within him, the electricity that coursed through his legs, the bubbles behind his lips.  He wanted to jump, to explore, to laugh.  In that moment, he desired nothing more than to shop and to soar and to forget.  It was strange.  It was so strange.

           (It would take him several years to realize that what he had felt had been nothing but pure joy.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is "7a" because chapter 7 is actually supposed to have a few more scenes. But I cut the chapter in half so I could finally update. I hope this was worth the wait!!! As always, comments & critiques are super appreciated <3


	8. Her Chill, His Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THAT IT'S BEEN TWO MONTHS SINCE I LAST UPDATED. Shit got really busy at school -.-;; I hope this chapter is to your liking, at least!
> 
> ((you might notice that, from here on, I’m no longer using song titles for chapter titles so, uh, yeah, enjoy my “clever” title making))

_Sad inconsistencies we see,_   
_When you find yourself lonely_   
_But right next to me._   
_Well I was there too,_   
_Just as lonely as you_   
_But we found their heads down below_   
_I can’t make no sense of this_   
_I can’t make no sense of this at all,_   
_So what’s this young man to do?  
_

\- [Senseless](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYphzdnqlNA), Portugal. the Man

A quick reminder on my parentheses use:  
(This is an aside)  
( _This is Jae-ha’s thoughts_ )  
( **This is the dragon** )  
( ** _This is the dragon influencing Jae-ha’s thoughts_** )

~~~

He was eight years old when he met his mother.

In Ryokuryuu Village, it was far from uncommon for the dragon warrior to never know his parents.  Garou could describe his parents in perfect detail, since so much of his youth was spent traveling with the villagers, searching for a new place to settle for the next twenty years or so.  He never interacted with them, but he knew who they were.  Yet Garou’s predecessor (who had tried to escape at one point, which had forced the village’s migration) had had no clue about his parents, not that Garou ever believed he had cared to know.  Jae-ha, though, had spent most of his years alive not knowing who had given birth to him.  According to Garou, Jae-ha’s parents had followed the tradition — they had raised the newborn Ryokuryuu until he had learned to walk (long enough for him to receive his mother’s milk), which was when he had been handed over to Garou (and become subjected to the Ryokuryuus’ constant hunger).

But when Jae-ha was eight years old, finally big enough to properly fit in his chains, his mother visited him.  It was a cold night, winter fast approaching, and Garou was helping to prepare the village huts for the impending snow.  Should it be a heavy winter, the snow could collapse the rooftops, so they were in need of reinforcements.  Jae-ha didn’t understand the job — all Garou did was deliver blocks of wood to the workers, because no one dared to give a potential weapon to a Ryokuryuu — nor did he believe that anyone actually worked into the nighttime for such a task.  Regardless, however, he was all alone in his hut, chained to the wall and freezing cold without a blanket, when the door was opened and a stranger woman entered, wholly uninvited.

He didn’t know immediately, of course.  She had muddled green hair, obviously a descendant mostly of foreigners that had gathered in the village and mated with each other and the occasional Ryokuryuu heir.  Almost every person in the village carried the blood of the original Ryokuryuu warrior — a man whose name had long been lost to history and hatred — but so, so many people had mixed with foreigners who had joined the village (willingly or not) in an attempt to do away with their cursed heritage.  This woman was just one of them, and she was a nearly successful case.

But she had pretty purple eyes, similar to Jae-ha’s.  Her face was round, if not a little hollow in the cheeks.  Prominent tear troughs protruded from under her eyes, the skin there a deep purple from lack of sleep.  Her bangs were long, covering her eyebrows, but the rest of her hair was kept up in a bun that was gradually falling apart.  She wore shoddy brown pants, with patches in various shades, and a pair of muddy boots.  Jae-ha couldn’t see her shirt, since she had a wool blanket wrapped tight around her shoulders.  Jae-ha might think she was somewhat pretty, if he wasn’t too busy trying to figure out why the hell she was there.

She didn’t speak for a long time.  After closing the door, she didn’t move much, either.  Jae-ha returned the gesture, curling up in his spot and staring her down silently.  He was more than happy to not interact with a stranger who might have come to kill him, in a futile attempt to do away with the Ryokuryuu bloodline.  But then, she smiled.  And all his defenses dropped.

It was a bleak smile, like an empty harvest or a burned forest.  Her eyebrows settled, the crinkles around her eyes drooping, as if tears were about to fall without a single sob.  Her shoulders and hands relaxed, allowing the blanket to collapse, revealing her shirt.  It was like Jae-ha’s own — made of dark green fabric, tied in the middle by a belt full of holes, and lined with plain black along the edges and the cuffs.

“…Wh-what do you want?” Jae-ha finally dared to ask.

She took two steps forward.  “Oh, Jae-ha…” she whispered in return.

( _How?!_ )  How did she know his name?  Only the village elder and Garou really knew he existed, right?  This woman, this stranger, who was she?

Jae-ha brought his knees closer to his face, his chains clattering with the movement.

“Oh, you must be cold,” she murmured.  There was something so familiar in the way she said it, a tinge of warmth in her words, like her caring about him was the most natural thing in the world.  She took another step forward and knelt down.  She reached behind herself and dragged the blanket over.  She wrapped it around his shoulders and smiled somewhat brightly, like the sun peaking behind clouds.  “Is that better?” she questioned.

Jae-ha nodded.

“Good…”  She sat down and crossed her legs.  Her back drooped and she rubbed her stomach with one hand.  “Jae-ha, I know you don’t know me.  But I… I know you.  I wasn’t the one who gave you your name, but I am the one who carried you, until you were old enough to walk.  Jae-ha, my name is Jeong.  I… I am your mother…”

His heart froze, taking with it his breath and his thoughts.  Hairs stood on edge.  Heat trickled down his throat, fresh and acidic, and then it became flames that spread through his chest, slowly at first, creeping down with a predator’s cautiousness, before engulfing him like an inferno should.  Mother?  The one who had given birth to him?  The one who had abandoned him?  Her?  His mother?  She didn’t look like him.  There was no way.  He would have preferred that she had died early on like so many other mothers, so he could have continued pretending that she never existed.  Was his father somewhere nearby, then?  Was that nameless bastard about to come introduce himself, too?  Was he just as skinny and pitiful as this woman who called herself Jeong, who called herself his mother?

Every muscle in Jae-ha’s body tightened, energy burning fervently in his arms and feet.  ( **Punch her.  Kick her.  Like how Garou punches and kicks you.** )  “What do you want?” he asked, not really sure if he was yelling or not.

“I came to see you,” she answered smoothly.  “I wanted to see how my son was growing up.  I’m not allowed to see you, but… I couldn’t resist.”  She laughed with noticeable effort.  The sound reminded him of an air bubble popping on the water’s surface — ethereal and weak, as if the person below had already drowned.  “It seems you’re growing up strong.  I thought you would be small, like that predecessor of yours.”

“Garou,” Jae-ha interjected.  “His name is Garou.”

“Right.”  His mother nodded.  “Garou.”

Jeong moved to her knees.  Jae-ha gripped the blanket at his shoulders and pulled it tighter around himself.

“May I… touch you?” she whispered.  “Just your face, please.”

Jae-ha didn’t say anything, nor did he move.  She moved forward, anyway, and brushed his bangs away from his right eye.

Just like that, the flames died in the face of a torrent of ice, a chill that ran down every hair, every bone, every muscle of his body.  It collected in his stomach, swallowing everything and leaving him with only a pool of yearning.  He was drained, and she was the source.  Yet he wanted more.  He leaned into the touch, allowing the fingers in his bangs to stroke the side of his face and her palm to cup his cheek.  Jeong smiled, brightness gracing her lips.

“You really are growing strong,” she mumbled.  Jeong began to back away, retracting her touch, but Jae-ha grabbed her hand.  She stared at him.  He stared back.  Her smile remained, but its brightness dimmed.  “Oh, Jae-ha…” Her fingers wrapped around his, holding his hand in return.  “I have… a favor to ask of you.”

Jae-ha brought their joined hands down to his lap.  He liked her hand.  It was warm.  “What is it?”

Finally, her smile disappeared.  It soured and her lips tightened, like a fruit that had grown old, wrinkled, and rotten.  “I’m pregnant again,” she admitted, speaking slowly.  “Ever since you were born, I have regretted that I would never be your mother.  In blood, yes, I am your mother.  But not in the role I was to play in your life.  I carried you in my belly, I nursed you, and I heard your first word.  But it all ended the day I delivered you to Garou.  You weren’t even a year old and I had already failed you as a mother.”  She brought their joined hands over to her and grasped them with her other hand.  “I want to properly raise this child.  So, please, Jae-ha… don’t curse this child.”

The pool in his stomach, that pool of cold yearning, began to boil.  “…Curse…?”

Jeong bowed her head, hands gripping his hand so tightly.  “Please don’t curse my child.  Let this one grow up a human.  Don’t make my baby a Ryokuryuu just because I failed you!”

( **Bitch.** )

The pool in his stomach erupted, steam filling the empty spaces within him.  It manifested itself as a scream in his throat, and he gladly released it all.  “Do you think it was my fault?!”  Jae-ha stood up and pulled back his hand from both of hers and kicked her with his right foot, where his Ryokuryuu leg had manifested itself.  He was far from full power, so she only fell down.  “I never asked for the power of the Ryokuryuu!  It’s _you_ who cursed me!  _You’re_ the one with the cursed blood.  That child will surely be a Ryokuryuu, just like me!”

She didn’t say a word.  She didn’t cry, either.  She simply stood, legs shaking and her cheek bright red.  She stared at him for a short eternity and, then, she left.  He was alone.  He was all alone again.

~~~

            He hadn’t meant it.  He hadn’t meant a single word he had said to her.  He had only been yelling at her so that she would be hurt, so that she would leave, so that she would stop treating him as a monster she had mistakenly begotten.  He hadn’t meant any of it.  (If anything, he had loved her, and he had hated himself for it.)

            Garou had returned not too long after she had left.  Immediately, he had taken the blanket that had fallen around Jae-ha’s feet, wrapped himself in it, and had fallen asleep next to Jae-ha and his threadbare mat.  Jae-ha didn’t join him.  Not once during that long night did he move from sitting to lying position, or try to take some warmth from Garou’s slumbering form, or stop hugging his legs.  He listened to the air blowing outside — wild, aggressive — and to Garou’s snores — deep, noisy — and to the chains that connected him to the wall — amused, angry — without allowing his heavy eyelids to close.  If he was waiting for her or punishing himself, he would never know.  What he did know was that there was a sickly hatred that pricked at his heart and upset his stomach all the way until the sun peaked its bright head over the horizon.

            “You look like shit,” Garou said when he woke up.  By then, the sun was shining through their window, and the rest of the village was waking up, as well.  “Did you sleep?” he asked.

            Jae-ha didn’t say a thing.

            Garou stared at him for a bit, waiting for an answer, before he gave up and draped the blanket over Jae-ha’s knees.  He combed his fingers through the long, dark green, matted mess that was his hair, and yawned.  “Well, whatever.  I’ll go see if the village elder will give me any food for all my work last night.”

            When Jae-ha didn’t say anything again, Garou stood up, stretched his arms above his head, and left.  Jae-ha buried his face between his knees and, finally, closed his eyes.  He couldn’t sleep just yet — not without breakfast — so he busied himself by listening.  There was something relaxing about the sounds of the morning — people speaking in sleepy whispers, people shuffling over the grass, people collecting their share of morning meals, all before the tedium of daily work began.

            This morning, though, Jae-ha noticed something different.  Above all the crying of babies and children who didn’t want to be awake yet, the regular playful fighting between fathers, and the soft laughter of women, there was a scream.  It was a bellowing scream, full of fear and agony, and it traveled through the town, as if the owner was running.  Jae-ha heard people speak among each other, perhaps even to the screamer, but their words fell as gibberish on Jae-ha’s ears.  Everyone spoke too quickly, too much, without giving pause so one person could speak over everyone else and let Jae-ha hear exactly what was going on outside his hut.  The only thing Jae-ha could distinguish was Garou’s voice.  It was inquisitive in tone, most likely asking for food or information.  But his words, too, were mangled by the noise.

            Jae-ha opened his eyes, hugged his legs a little tighter, and decided to wait.

            It didn’t take long, however.  Soon enough, there was the sound of running feet outside the hut, and the door slammed open.  Garou stood in the threshold, some sweat dripping down his face, and he shouted, “Do you know a woman named Jeong?!”

            The question was falling from Jae-ha’s lips before he realized it.  “Is… Is my mother okay?”

            Garou’s shoulders froze.  “You knew her…?” he asked, his voice almost as silent as air.

            Jae-ha dropped his hands from his legs.  “Sh-she came to visit me, last night… She — she’s pregnant again and wants my blessing.  Wh-why?”

            Garou stumbled forward.  He fell to his knees, as if shot dead, and collapsed against Jae-ha, arms wrapped so tightly around his body.  Jae-ha’s own arms were kept in that embrace, so he couldn’t return the hug.  He could only stare, confused, at Garou’s hunched back and how he hid his face in Jae-ha’s shoulder.  The sound of a cane against the floor directed Jae-ha’s eyes back to the doorway, however, and there he saw the village elder, his wrinkled face grimmer than usual.  A taller man appeared behind him, his eyes crazy, his hair short and light green, and his chest heaving for air.

            “Garou,” the village elder spoke first.  “Was it him?”

            “It had to be!” the taller man interjected.  “Jeong, she — she _wouldn’t_ do something like that if it wasn’t—”

            “How could he?!” Garou interrupted.  His arms loosened around Jae-ha, but they did not leave him, and Garou glared at the two men in his doorway.  “He never knew his mother!  I never even told him her name!  How could he have _anything_ to do with your wife’s suicide?!”

            Everything fell silent.  Jae-ha could see the men’s mouths moving, could see the anger burning in their eyes, but he couldn’t hear a thing.  A scream lurched in his throat, tears welled in his eyes, and disgust bombarded his gut.  _Death_.  By _suicide_.  He had done that to her.  He had said all those things.  He hadn’t meant anything he had said but, oh, he _had_ , hadn’t he?  He had wanted to see her dead, hadn’t he?  Otherwise, he wouldn’t have said them, right?  Otherwise, she wouldn’t have died, right?  She wouldn’t have killed herself and his unborn sibling, right?  It was all his fault.  It was all his fault.  It was all his fault.  He was terrible, he had done this, it was all his fault.  ( **You _monster_**.)

            Before he knew it, he was screaming.  Tears were running down his face, and he was punching himself in the stomach again and again and again.  “I’m sorry!” he was screaming.  “I’m sorry!  I didn’t want to!  I-I hadn’t — _I’m sorry!_ ”

            A hand much larger than his own grabbed his arm and forced it away from his stomach.  “Oi, Jae-ha, calm down,” Garou commanded.  When Jae-ha went to punch himself with his other hand, Garou grabbed his wrist.  “Jae-ha, come on, stop.”

            Jae-ha could only scream.

            He heard the village elder say, “That’s enough, leave him,” but he didn’t dare look to know if they were leaving.  He couldn’t bring himself to see the face of the man he presumed was his father.  He could only scream and cry, so pitiful, fighting against Garou’s steady hold, his chains rattling every time he moved, such grim, disgusting things that fit him perfectly.

            “I’m sorry,” he whimpered.  “I-I didn’t—” a sob and a sniffle interrupted him, “—She came to me and I got mad and I said a bunch of things a-and—”  His wailing became uncontrollable.  All those years of agony, of wondering who his parents were, of wishing he hadn’t been born with a dragon’s leg came gushing out, waves upon waves of pitiful sobs that he hated to hear.

            Suddenly, Garou’s released his arm and wrist.  Without the weight of another person, Jae-ha thought he might fall, finally, into the overwhelming pool of despair.  He deserved it, though.  He didn’t have the right to live, not after this.  But, then, there was an arm wrapped around his lower back, and a hand on his head, and his face was buried in Garou’s chest.  A hug.  Garou was hugging him.  ( _Won’t he just die because of me, too?_ )

            “It’s not your fault,” Garou swore.  “No matter what you think, this was not your fault.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, I’m an asshole.
> 
> Haha, I actually really liked this chapter, though, if I’m being honest. Maybe it’s just because I’m happy to be back to writing stuff I actually care for (instead of 10 paged essays about urban sustainability & papers on Metaphysical subjects that are basically just “Okay repeat the class back to me”). But, meh, I think this time around I wrote some really good emotional metaphors, so I’m happy about that lmao. I think my writing might’ve fallen apart at the end, though, since I was trying to avoid overdramatizing Jae-ha’s distress, but I think the result was that I rushed it?? Mmnn, I’m not sure. What do you guys think?
> 
> ALSO, while I generally wouldn’t do this for fics, I think I’ll explain exactly what the dragon is for Jae-ha. It should be covered a bit in later chapters, but I think I owe you guys a proper explanation right now. Basically, I headcanon that each of the warriors have a manifestation of their dragon in their subconscious. None of the dragons are the Actual Gods or anything like that, but they each have a voice of some sort in the warriors’ minds. Like, in Shin-ah’s case, the dragon is the manifestation of his fear and his power. He doesn’t want to accept that he has such a terrifying power, so he chooses to run from it and only use it in desperate situations — which, of course, means he cannot control it, since he, unlike Yona, cannot face it head on. In Kija’s case, I headcanon that he has a mutual beneficence relationship with his dragon. The dragon is the manifestation of what he believes to be his destiny. He carries on its will, and it wholeheartedly lends him its power and protection. For Zeno, we know in canon that he can’t speak with the Ouryuu God, even when he needed the God the most, so I figure he has a severed relationship with his dragon. Finally, for Jae-ha, our main focus here, his dragon has the manifestation of what he hates, including himself. It is the representation of his anger and the thoughts he can’t bring himself to say out loud (like getting rid of Nuri in one of the previous chapters, or calling his mother a bitch in this chapter).
> 
> I write Jae-ha as a really complicated character, don’t I? If you’re ever confused on how I write him, or why I choose what I choose, please feel free to ask!! I love explaining myself haha.


	9. A Home, By All Regards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over a month later & I finally update... with a relatively short chapter. To be fair, I've been working on requests & also readjusting to school, so that's probably why this chapter may seem bland in comparison to previous ones ;;
> 
> Also, no song this chapter because I couldn't find a good one. Technically this is what was supposed to continue from Chapter 7, with "Lost Kitten," so, uh, I guess you just keep that all together in your head???? idk man this story needs to be rewritten

The morning was silent, just as he liked it.  Somehow unreluctant, he rolled out of bed, folded up his blanket, and began the routine.  First, he untied his sash, removed his shirt, and took off the bandages around his wrists. His injuries appeared no better from the day before, when Gigan had bought so many things, just for him.  Yet happiness budded in his chest as he looked upon the traumatized skin.  To think that the sight of his wrists had once filled him with anger and agony.  To think he would get to watch them heal.

           Jae-ha stood up and hurried into the kitchen.  He kneeled in front of the wash basin next to the stove and cleaned his wrists. Then he returned to his room, applied the balm from In-sik to his wrists, and wrapped them in fresh bandages. After buying ribbon from Bo-young the day before, Gigan had purchased bandages – as well as some other items – and Jae-ha was happily utilizing them.  He had even used them to cover all his ugly scales by wrapping up his dragon leg!

           Once he was finished with his wrists, and made sure his handiwork on his leg was still intact, he put his shirt and sash back on.  Just then, a knock sounded from the front door.

           He poked his head from his room.  Luckily, Gigan was already awake and heading for the door.  It was strange, seeing her in her sleeping attire – with her hair down, her earrings out, and clothed only in a long white dress. With a yawn, she slid open the front door.

           “Ah, Areum.  Been awhile,” Gigan mumbled.

           Areum?  The name sounded familiar.  Jae-ha left his room and came up to Gigan’s side.

           There was a young girl on the other side of the door.  She could’ve only been somewhere between eight and thirteen years old. She had blonde hair, brown roots and eyes, a round nose, and the most strained smile Jae-ha had ever seen.  Her robes were dyed a dull yellow and tied with a red sash, a pair of colors that were somehow uplifting.  In her hands was a blue bowl.  She was cute, incredibly so, except for that smile and the tenseness that radiated from her entire body.

           “H-hello, Miss Gigan,” Areum greeted with a bow.

           Gigan yawned again and patted Jae-ha’s head.  “Jae-ha, take care of this while I go get dressed, okay?”

           Jae-ha nodded and took a step forward while Gigan walked away.  He attempted a smile, trying to calm the guest, but Areum immediately flinched.  Well, okay, that was definitely not going to work.

           “I’m Jae-ha,” he introduced himself with a slight bow, “Gigan’s new employee.”

           She bobbed her head in acknowledgement.  She took one hand from the bowl to tuck her hair behind her right ear. She finally dropped her smile just as she dropped her gaze from him.  “I’m Bora’s daughter.  I, um… Momma’s sick, so I made breakfast this morning.  I thought I’d share it with Miss Gigan, since that’s what Momma always does…  But, um, I didn’t know you were here, so I’m sorry if it isn’t enough, or if it doesn’t taste good…”

           “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Gigan suddenly said.  Jae-ha turned around to see her leaving her room in her faded pink cheongsam, her golden chandelier earrings swaying as she walked.  She was in the middle of putting her hair up, but she did it so effortlessly and so quickly that she was finished by the time she reached the front door.  “What’s your mother sick with?”

           Areum held out the bowl and Jae-ha took it from her.  “Nothing, really,” Areum answered.  “Momma thinks it’s just some bad food she ate yesterday.  She promises to be okay by later today.”

           “Are there any bruises?” Gigan asked immediately.

           Jae-ha nearly dropped the bowl.  He stared at Areum, whose eyes went so wide and so _dead_ , and he had to look away because her expression was too familiar. Gripping the bowl tight, he ran away to the kitchen.  As carefully as he could with shaking fingers, he placed the bowl on the table before curling up, hugging his knees, taking deep breaths, trying so hard to stay calm, damn it, ( _you’re not a kid anymore_ ).

           From outside the kitchen, he heard Areum’s reply.  “Dad’s been really good lately!  He hasn’t laid a hand on us in weeks!  Promise!”

           The rest of the conversation faded into mumbles as Jae-ha redirected his attention to the pace of his breath and the beating of his heart.  This didn’t make any sense, not to him.  He knew Areum had been beaten in the past.  It had escaped his mind, of course, because Gigan had told him that information a whole month ago, shortly before he had stupidly left her, shortly before he had tried to forget her and her kindness.  He remembered wanting Areum’s father, Hyeok, to die – he _still_ wanted him to die.  So why was his body reacting so strongly to her, to a plight he should have already known about, to a girl whose fear and pain and agony he could sympathize with all too well?

           But he and Areum were _different_.  Hyeok was a bastard.  Areum was still trapped.  But Jae-ha had _escaped_.  Garou had never _wanted_ to hurt him.

           “Jae-ha.”

           He snapped out of it.  His breath was still shallow and his heart was still beating too fast, but all his attention was on Gigan.  She was sitting across from him, emptying out Areum’s bowl of food into two bowls for herself and him.  She was frowning.  He had disappointed her, hadn’t he?

           “…Sorry…” he mumbled.

           “Don’t apologize,” she immediately countered.

           “I don’t know what happened,” he admitted.  “You asked Areum if Bora was hurt, and my body started acting on its own.”

           “You panicked,” Gigan said as she passed the bowl with the larger serving to Jae-ha.  The food Areum had made was rice and fish eyes.  He grabbed his chopsticks and stirred the ingredients together.  “It happens a lot with people who have gone through traumatic experiences.  I’ve seen plenty of cases to know for sure.”

           “…I wouldn’t call it traumatic—”

           “It was harsh, no matter what you want to call it,” Gigan scolded.  Jae-ha glared at her.  She sighed before putting on a smile that extinguished all his anger immediately.

           “I-I guess…” he conceded.  “Anyway, let’s eat.  It’s too early to argue.”

           Gigan nodded.  “You got that right, brat.”

 

* * *

 

           The ship was unchanged.  It floated at the harbor, a giantess in the sea, beautiful and intimidating.  Jae-ha jumped aboard before Gigan could grab the rope she had tied to the side of the ship so she could climb up.  With quite a bit of effort, he picked up the plank used for the crew to walk onto and off the ship, and attempted to push it from the deck and onto the harbor.  But it wasn’t until Gigan climbed up and took the plank from him that the job was finished — as it turned out, the entire operation was a matter of technique, and Jae-ha was only a bit insulted when Gigan turned to him and said, “You’re about 100 years too early to be trying this all by yourself.”  (Okay, actually, he was incredibly insulted, but he wasn’t about to start an argument over it.)

           “Anyway, what the hell is that power of yours?” Gigan asked while she led Jae-ha to the cabin closest to the bow of the ship.  “You look like you’re flying.”

           Jae-ha scratched his cheek with his index finger.  It was strange, talking about his power so openly.  “I told you, I’m a Ryokuryuu.  Don’t you know the legend…?”

           Gigan opened the cabin door and searched through her sleeves.  From what he had figured out about Gigan, he knew she had sewn pockets onto the inside of her clothes.  If everything she carried had a specific pocket, he wouldn’t know, since he had yet to ask her.  Regardless, it was a smart idea.  He would have to ask her, one day, to show him how she made those pockets so he could put some in his own clothes.

           “The Ryokuryuu has the power of a god in his leg.  He can jump into the heavens.  Something like that,” Gigan eventually replied.  She pulled out a small box of sulfur matches from her sleeve.  “I wouldn’t call what you do ‘jumping’, though. You’re soaring.”  She picked out one match and, with a mere flick of her wrist, lit the match on the wall.  She brought the burning stick to a pair of lanterns on either side of the door, illuminating the small cabin full of fishing equipment.

           “I’m jumping,” Jae-ha said.  “Dunno how to explain it… but basically I just shift my weight to my right leg and jump. Everything else is just instinctual.”

           “Everything else?”

           Jae-ha shrugged.  “Landing, figuring out how high or far I’m gonna go, that kind of stuff.  I never think about it.”

           Gigan made an interested noise, an “ah,” long on the _a_.  She shook the match until the flame extinguished and then threw the used stick to the floor.  “Earlier you said ‘ _a_ Ryokuryuu’.  Does that mean there’s more than one of ya?”

           Jae-ha froze at the door while Gigan walked further into the cabin and to the fishing net.  “A-as far as I know, there’s only two Ryokuryuus at one time…”

           “Oh? Born at the same time or what?” Gigan continued to question.

           “…Separate,” Jae-ha managed to say.  “One’s the predecessor, the other’s a successor…”

           “Your dad, then?” Gigan asked.  She picked up the fishing net in her arms and finally turned to look at Jae-ha.  He opened his mouth to answer, struggling with his recoiling voice and the talons of regret scratching at his brain.  But before a sound could leave his throat, Gigan stopped him.  “Nevermind. I shouldn’t have asked.  You obviously aren’t ready to talk about it.”

           Gigan walked out of the cabin, patting Jae-ha’s head as she passed him. Jae-ha balled his shaking hands into fists and turned around to follow her.  He focused his attention on the slowly rising sun to keep his thoughts away from the past.

           “You know,” Gigan said while she put down the fishing net at the side of the ship, almost directly across from the entryway, “the crew is going to be overjoyed to see you again.  It’ll be tough to keep them from mauling you.  You can go home if you wanna.”

           The idea was tempting, honestly.  But it would be lame to skip out on his first day of work, wouldn’t it? “Why would I want to?”

           “The morning’s been pretty stressful for you so far, yeah?  You can get some rest.”

           Admittedly, Jae-ha was exhausted.  Not just physically, either.  Mentally, he was flailing to stay ashore.  The panic he had experienced after Areum’s visit had consumed a good chunk of his energy, and Gigan’s questions about his past had torn into his reserves.  It was dumb, in his opinion, that such simple things had taken so much out of him. “I’m fine.  I need to stop running away, anyway.”

           “Resting and running aren’t the same thing,” Gigan retorted.  But Jae-ha didn’t budge.  “Fine.  It’s your choice.  Just know that you’re free to kick anyone who makes you uncomfortable, got it? Especially Byung-ho.  That idiot needs a good hit every once in a while.”

           The slightest of laughs bubbled up from Jae-ha’s throat.  “Got it.”

 

* * *

 

           In the end, Jae-ha didn’t have to kick anyone.  Instead of doing exactly what he and Gigan expected them to do, a.k.a. maul Jae-ha with happiness, almost everyone in Gigan’s crew shouted in joy, ran up the plank and onto the ship, and groveled at his feet.  At least twenty grown, muscular men.  Groveling.  This was the best morning Jae-ha had ever had.

           After a ridiculously long round of Jae-ha attempting to apologize to the crew over shouts of “ _We missed you so much_!” and “ _Please don’t ever leave us again_!” and “ _Welcome back_!”, Gigan shouted at her men to get themselves together and stop crying, “For gods’ sake, you’re a miserable lot.”  Finally, they all got to their feet.  Jae-ha cleared his throat, tried not to pay attention to all the crying men staring at him, and bowed his head in apology.

           “Please take care of me from here on,” Jae-ha mumbled.

           “Are you kidding me?!” one of the men shouted.  Looking up, Jae-ha saw Byung-ho, with his field of blonde hair uncharacteristically tied in a high ponytail and with his light green eyes clouded with tears, fighting his way through the crowd and to the front.  “Of course we’re gonna take care of you!” Byung-ho declared, pointing an accusing finger at Jae-ha.  “You’re one of us!  And don’t think we’ll let you go so easily next time you decide to run off!”

           Laugher rippled through him, from his toes to his teeth, and he had to grab his knees to keep himself from falling over.  “Yeah, no worries about that, Byung-ho,” he managed to say even though addressing the crying fisherman made him want to laugh even more.

           “…You’re laughing…” he heard Byung-ho mumble.  Jae-ha just continued to cackle, closing his eyes and letting all his defenses down because he only wanted to think of the over-emotional, overprotective, over- _hilarious_ expressions of Gigan’s crew.  So enraptured, he failed to notice Byung-ho shout, “You’re laughing!” before rushing forward to take Jae-ha in his arms, picking him off the ground and hugging him tightly.  All the air in Jae-ha’s lungs rushed out, but there was still some mirth left in him, and he could use that joy and ignore the discomfort in his bones and laugh as Byung-ho spun him around, proclaiming gleefully, “Jae-ha’s laughing!  We got that sour look off his face!”

           Gigan interrupted the party before the panic could settle in Jae-ha’s chest. Tapping Byung-ho’s shoulder with her pipe, she made him put Jae-ha down.  “Stop wasting time and get to work,” she commanded.  After a loud round of “Yes, ma’am!” and the overbearing sound of men running around the ship to get it ready for sailing, Gigan looked down at Jae-ha and asked him, “You doing okay?”

           Jae-ha took his time to answer.  He grabbed his wrist, pressing his fingers against the heavily damaged skin under the bandages.  The pain reminded him that he was living free and far away from anyone who would return him to a horrendous place.  The pain reminded him that he was happy, if that was what he could call the pervasive warmth he found in Awa, danger aside.  The pain reminded him that he was healing.

           “Yeah.  I’m doing fine,” Jae-ha finally replied.

           Gigan smiled.  “Good to know.  C’mon, get to work.”

           “Yes, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments & critiques are very important to me~ Please let me know if you have any ideas for improvement on this chapter.


	10. A Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took awhile (6 weeks, haha *cries*), but I finished the chapter! Special thanks to innocenceandarsenic on tumblr for doing the beta!!!!

The catch of the day was small.  Every sailor, Jae-ha and Gigan included, were only allotted three or four fish each, so that there would be enough left for sale at the marketplace.  Not a soul complained, however.  Even if they were used to having a surplus of fish, how could they possibly whine when their dear captain was dealing with the exact same situation?  They were paid about the same amount every day, regardless, so it should not have been a problem.

Except it was, in fact, a huge problem.  The small catch continued morning after morning, for a full two weeks, and it got to the point that they didn’t have enough to sell at the marketplace, regardless of if anyone in the crew took a share of fish or not.  So their pay went down, as well.  And no amount of saving up and hoping for a better day could fill an empty stomach.

It was Seok-hee who spoke up first. Seok-hee was an ordinary man, but in the strangest of ways.  He blended into the crowd despite being so distinctive.  He was neither stocky nor willowy, neither obese nor skinny, just a perfect in-between that was so rare to find in Awa, where everyone was either well-built or not.  Even Ming-ju, with his large belly and flabby face, had some defined muscles in his arms and legs.  Seok-hee also had a young face, completely without any lines, but his beard was long enough to reach his chest, and he liked to braid it.  With his faint yellow complexion and his short, messy, brown hair that so many other Awa men had, however, he appeared just like everyone else at first glance.

Jae-ha didn’t like him very much.  It wasn’t that Seok-hee was a bad person in any way — actually, it was possible that he was one of the nicest people in Gigan’s entire arsenal of allies — but it was that he had a nervous tick, a habit made by fear, that surfaced whenever he spoke to Jae-ha.  His eye twitched.  Ever since Jae-ha had officially decided to stay in Awa, almost an entire month had past, and in that time of working with the crew, Jae-ha had had plenty of opportunities to study Seok-hee.  He knew for certain that Seok-hee’s eye twitch only ever appeared when they spoke with each other.  It was annoying and it made Jae-ha want to punch him.

Not that he would.  He wanted to stay on Gigan’s good side.  But he really wanted to, anyway.

So when Seok-hee suddenly appeared at Gigan’s house one day, shouting for her from the other side of the front door, Jae-ha nearly broke the chopsticks in his hand.  That day, Ming-ju, Byung-ho, and Min-ki were visiting for lunch.  Min-ki had brought some octopus balls from his family’s shop while Ming-ju had brought some soy sauce from his brother-in-law while Byung-ho was just there for the sake of eating food and remaining practically attached to Min-ki’s hip.  Ming-ju jumped when the wood of Jae-ha’s chopsticks cracked, but Gigan paid it no mind as she stood up from her seat and went to answer the door.

Byung-ho waited until Gigan was out of the room to pat Jae-ha’s head.  At the same time, Min-ki gently reached for the chopsticks in Jae-ha’s hand, pinching the thicker ends of the utensils.  Jae-ha opened his hands, letting Min-ki take his cracked chopsticks, watching out of the corner of his eyes as Min-ki winced at the damage done. Jae-ha put his empty hands on his knees, digging his fingers into the fabric of his pants to distract himself from how nerve-wracking it was to have Byung-ho’s huge palm on his head, fingers spread out over his hair.  All Byung-ho would have to do was tighten his grip if he wanted to slam Jae-ha’s head on Gigan’s table, which, he reasoned, would probably break from the impact. But Byung-ho was thankfully gentle, ruffling Jae-ha’s hair a little before retracting his hand and laughing.

“Can’t go without ‘er, huh?” Byung-ho joked.

Min-ki looked at his friend with a dumbfounded expression — it was so odd to see, since Jae-ha was used to Min-ki’s complacent smile.  “I really doubt Jae-ha’s bothered by that, Byung-ho,” Min-ki commented, a long-suffering sigh weaved into his words.  He stood up to go find a new pair of chopsticks for Jae-ha at the left side of the stove, where Gigan kept all her plates and utensils.

“Then what’s bothering you, Jae-ha?” Byung-ho asked, a pout appearing on his lips.  He crossed his arms on the table and leaned in.  “You scared big Ming-ju here.”

Ming-ju sighed.  “I wasn’t scared, just surprised.  I don’t like sudden noises,” he replied, a tiny whine in his voice.

“So you were scared,” Byung-ho and Min-ki retorted in unison.

“Sh-shut up!” Ming-ju exclaimed, the tip of his nose turning red.

“It’s Seok-hee,” Jae-ha decided to answer, if only to spare Ming-ju further embarrassment.  “I don’t like him.”

Min-ki returned to the table with a wide-eyed, confused stare that mirrored Byung-ho’s own.  He passed the new chopsticks to Jae-ha and sat down.  “Seok-hee?  But he’s so nice.”

“Yeah!” Byong-ho concurred.  “What could you have against ‘im?”

“Is Seok-hee from your crew?” Ming-ju asked while Jae-ha bit his bottom lip, debating how he would answer.

Byung-ho nodded.  “You don’t know ‘im?  He lives in East Awa like you, surprised you haven’t met.”

Ming-ju gave a nervous laugh.  “Hey, I have a pretty big family of my own, it’s tough keeping track of everyone.”

“Should someone about to get married really say that?” Min-ki questioned, causing Ming-ju to sputter.

“I don’t think Seok-hee likes me!” Jae-ha finally relayed.  “His eye twitches whenever he talks to me, but it doesn’t when he talks to anyone else…”

“What?” Byung-ho exclaimed, drawing out the _a_.  “You’re so awesome, Jae-ha!  How could he not like you?”

Jae-ha could think of plenty of reasons.  He didn’t say any of them, though, and decided to put away his chopsticks and leave the room so he could get away from the topic. Luckily for him, nobody thought to call out after him.

Gigan’s counter and kitchen were on the same side of the house.  Jae-ha’s room, though, was directly across from the kitchen doorway.  So, not wanting to be seen by Seok-hee, Jae-ha decidedly crouched down and hid behind Gigan’s counter, seating himself alongside bare shelves that were impeccably kept clean.  The only thing that sat in the counter was a large rectangular box, the contents of which Jae-ha was not privy to.  He put it out of his mind to listen to the conversation happening at the front door.

“Forgive me for being so impertinent,” Seok-hee said, his years of proper education (whatever that was, Jae-ha only knew the term because everyone attached it to Seok-hee) showing through his words. “But, Captain Gigan, the pay you’ve been giving lately has become too little.  I know I’m not the only person in the crew struggling.”

There was a long stretch of silence, probably from Gigan taking her time to smoke her pipe.  When she did respond, it was with the strictest tone Jae-ha had ever heard from her — “Why do you think I have to fix that?  If you want something to blame, blame the ocean.  She’s the one with so little fish.”

“I know, but—” Seok-hee immediately retorted, before taking a moment to gather his thoughts.  “Captain, you do information brokering on the side, don’t you?  Surely you have some savings you can use to help us.”

The air turned sour, Gigan’s rage so tangible, Jae-ha nearly forgot to breathe.  “None of you work in my information ring.  If you bring me something useful, I’ll pay you.”

“Captain, I don’t have those kinds of connections—”

“Then _make them_ ,” Gigan interrupted, her tone so unbelievably indifferent that her words were accompanied by a bone-aching chill.  “Or get another job.  I’m your employer, not your mother.”

“Captain, you know nobody else would ever give me a job.”

“And whose fault is that?” Gigan demanded, her voice rising ever so slightly.  “Everyone knows you’re a thief.  Even if you gave that up to raise a family, nobody would employ someone with a history like yours.  If you all you think you can do now is beg for more money, then you’re better off moving to a different city.”

Jae-ha knew he should leave right then.  He had heard too much.  He had no interest in knowing so much about another person’s life, especially when it was obvious they didn’t like him.  But as he shifted to his knee, ready to stand up, he was stopped cold in his tracks.

“…It’s because Jae-ha’s around, right?” Seok-hee questioned.  The blood in Jae-ha’s dragon leg began to pulse, hot and angry and ruinous.  He gritted his teeth so he would not give away his hiding place.  “That’s why you can’t give out more money?”

“Are you trying to insinuate something?” Gigan responded.

“I…” Seok-hee’s voice cracked a bit, before dying down into a whisper so low that Jae-ha had to strain his ears to hear, “I heard he’s another runaway.  They’re usually gone by now, aren’t they?  And he’s returned twice.  You’re… paying to keep him, right?”

Many moments passed before Gigan answered. “That child is no one’s slave. I’d sooner kill his slavers than do business with them.”

“What about your shoulder?  Wasn’t it seriously injured after you rescued Jae-ha from the ocean?” Seok-hee asked.  Jae-ha’s stomach flipped.

“…That was an accident, nothing more.  Don’t ever bring it up again,” Gigan replied, her caution obvious.

“Captain—”

“ _Leave_ ,” Gigan ordered in a hiss.  “Don’t you think you’ve made me angry enough?  Go home and cool your head.  I’ll talk to you later.”

Without waiting for a reply, Gigan shut the door with the slightest of slams.  The sound of her turning around and walking away soon followed, but her footsteps stopped at the counter.

“Don’t take what he said personally,” Gigan whispered as she stared down at Jae-ha from beside the counter.  Jae-ha avoided her eyes.

“I didn’t.  He’s a jerk, anyway, I knew not to care about him from the start,” Jae-ha answered, somehow managing a whisper despite the way his heart pounded and his body trembled.

“What a good intuition,” Gigan said, obviously not believing him.

Jae-ha clenched his hands into fists, trying to quell their shaking.  “Your shoulder… I’m sorry about that.  Really. I-I was—”

“Scared.  I know. It’s fine.”

Jae-ha finally looked up to meet Gigan’s eyes. She was smiling ever so slightly. It was beautiful, in the strangest of ways, at least to him.

He stood up and, together, they returned to the kitchen.  Byung-ho, Min-ki, and Ming-ju had already returned to their own conversation, which was apparently at Ming-ju’s expense, as he poked at his food with a flushed face. Min-ki, soon followed by Byung-ho, was gracious enough to end the talk and greet Gigan and Jae-ha when they sat down at the table again.

“So what did Seok-hee want?” Min-ki questioned. Ming-ju, meanwhile, decided to chow down on his food.

“More money,” Gigan answered tersely.

“ _Tsk_ , you’d think that bastard would learn to stop relying on everyone else by now,” Byung-ho complained.  He had already finished his meal, but still he had his chopsticks poised in his hand as if he was about to pick up food.

“…Why’d you hire him, anyway?” Jae-ha mumbled, not wanting to be heard yet wanting to know.

Gigan, though, did hear him.  “Same reason I hired Hyeok.”

Immediately, both Min-ki and Byung-ho’s expressions soured. Ah, so they knew what a bastard he was, too.  Ming-ju, though, just kept eating, unabashedly taking from Gigan’s plate, since she rarely ate much, anyway.

“I’ve known both of ‘em since they were kids, basically.  Hyeok was a great kid, always tried to help, loved Bora from the day he knew her.  He did the best he could as an ironsmith, since he likes making things.  But then his boss accused him of sabotaging their orders, and nobody else would hire someone like that.  Didn’t matter if it was true or not, or how many people could vouch for the fact that he would never do something so stupid — nobody wanted him.  So he started drinking a lot.  But Hyeok’s good when he’s not drunk.  The least I can do is keep him that way by keeping him working.”

Gigan sighed and casually swatted Ming-ju’s hand away from her plate. “Seok-hee’s family was rich because they traded high-quality textiles.  His family’s name is one of those with lots of history of success. They even had enough money to send him to Kuuto, capital of the country, so he could get a proper education, the kind of stuff only nobles’ kids usually can get.  But then something happened, I never really got the full story, and Seok-hee’s family lost everything and had to take him back to Awa long before his education finished.  They were desperate, so Seok-hee started stealing.  Only made things worse.  But then he found himself a girl and he wanted to do right by her, so he gave up being a thief.  Dunno why he hasn’t bothered leaving town so he can get a job.”

“But you still gave him work,” Min-ki commented, the corner of his lip lifted in a half-smile.

“Call me a bleeding heart,” Gigan said in a total monotone.  She poured soy sauce over the two octopus balls left on her plate and bit into one. Ming-ju finally decided he was full and picked up the other empty plates to put them in the wash bin.  Jae-ha crossed his arms over the table and rested his head on them.  Everyone was silent until Gigan finished eating.

“I hear things are getting rough again,” Byung-ho mumbled.

“What do you mean?” Gigan asked as she handed her empty plate to Jae-ha.  He got up and went to the wash bin so he could clean all of the plates and chopsticks.

“Guards are acting up again,” Byung-ho answered. “Rescuing girls from trouble and then forcing them to do all sorts of things.”  Byung-ho’s nose scrunched up with disgust.  “My little sister got caught up in the mess.  Luckily the asshole’s superior showed up and made ‘im leave before I found myself in jail.”

“Ah… I think Ma was talking about that,” Min-ki added.  “I’m glad you and your sister are safe.”

Byung-ho sighed.  “Me too, but sis says a few of her friends weren’t so lucky.  Nobody dirtied them, thank the gods, but who knows about all the other girls out there?”

“I hear there’s a new drug from the neighbor town, too” Ming-ju mumbled.  “It’s supposed to be put in your drink.  Not all that potent, but if you put in too much, you’ll either die or get hooked. Haven’t found out much more than that.”

Gigan hummed.  Byung-ho interjected with, “Do you know how they’re getting the drug in?”

“I figure they’re just walking it in from the woods.  Going from the sea would take a lot more time and money.  From what I hear, it’s not very expensive and not enough people are addicted to make all the money needed for a ship, even a small one,” Ming-ju replied.

“What about a rowboat?” Byung-ho questioned.

“The merchandise would get wet,” Gigan replied quickly.  Byung-ho laughed nervously.

“Is the problem widespread or concentrated?” Min-ki asked.  Jae-ha finished cleaning the dishes and turned around just in time to see Min-ki hunch over the table, an uncharacteristic frown on his lips. Somehow he was more attractive like that.  Jae-ha bit his lower lip and sat down quietly, refusing to look in Min-ki’s direction.

“It’s mostly in the west, I think.  Woman’s District,” Ming-ju answered.

“Ah, I think that’s where most of the bastard guards are…” Byung-ho grumbled.

“Oh!  Speaking of the Woman’s District, I just remembered I have some errands to run there,” Gigan suddenly interjected.  The three men at the table groaned in unison.

“Captain, this is a serious conversation…” Ming-ju whined, albeit a bit playfully.

“Of course it is.  But I trust you to follow through on your leads without me having to remind you.”

At that, Ming-ju’s irises began to shine, tears welling into little pools in his eyes.  His cheeks reddened and his nose scrunched, giving him a silly expression that made Jae-ha snort.  “C-Captain! You’re so wonderful!  So lovely!”  Ming-ju grabbed Gigan’s hands from over the table, his head bowed as he, well, actually cried.  Jae-ha gaped. Was he dreaming?  He really wanted to be dreaming.  “You deserve so many good things in this world!”

To add to Jae-ha’s shock, Gigan smiled, the curve of her lips and the slight dip in her eyelids comforting and loving and unbelievably kind, to the point that Jae-ha’s heart skipped a beat.  “I have plenty of good things in my life,” Gigan replied, her tone oh so soft.

Both Min-ki and Byung-ho’s faces turned a bright, bright red.  “Captain!” they shouted, flinging themselves across the table.  Gigan, though, broke free of Ming-ju’s grip before the other two idiots could grab her, and they landed, hilariously, on top of each other.

“Come on, Jae-ha, we have things to do,” Gigan stated as she walked out, completely nonchalant about the pile of weird men left in her kitchen.

Jae-ha shrugged and ran after her.  He was sure the trio would be fine without him and Gigan. Maybe.  Hopefully.  Probably not. But he didn’t really want to be there anymore, so leaving them was the best option.

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, Gigan’s errands took him all the way to the outskirts of Awa, into the forest that he had not seen ever since the day he had drowned in the ocean.  Past the many subsections of the city, past the poor travelers gathered for warmth, past the point where stone-paved road became horse-and-human trampled ground. They weaved through crowds of trees made hardy by the passing spring, careful of ant hills and puddles brought and made by the sun-showers that visited Awa so often.  Gigan didn’t speak the entire way over, her mouth occupied by her kiseru and smoke that smelled like tea.  Jae-ha didn’t mind, not in the slightest.  Silence was familiar.  Silence let him stop thinking.  Silence was always welcomed.

Gigan’s voice, however, was also nice.  It added a gritty texture to all her words, but it was only terrible when she was upset.  When she finally spoke, Jae-ha found himself releasing a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“We’re looking for dong quai,” Gigan informed him.  She stopped walking to bend down and pluck out a gathering of tiny white flowers.  “It looks like this.  Make sure to dig out the root, since that’s what we really need.”  She held her kiseru between her lips and reached into her bag to pull out two old pouches and two trowels for digging.

Jae-ha took one of each item.  “What’s the dong quai for?”

Gigan’s lips and eyebrows drooped before she forced them back up. “Medicine.  You chop up the roots and put them in your tea,” she said around the kiseru still resting in her mouth.

“Ah…” Jae-ha watched as Gigan dropped the flowers into her bag before getting to her knees to dig out the roots.  Jae-ha joined her.  “This is going to the Woman’s District?”

Gigan nodded as she stabbed the trowel into the ground.  “It’s popular among brothel women.”

Jae-ha hummed, not really understanding.  There was still so much he had left to learn, about Awa and about the world.  He tore the ground with his trowel, digging up the patch of dong quai.  It was difficult, knowing just how far he needed to dig, and the roots were surprisingly sturdy, but he didn’t mind it so much.  If it was better than chains, then it was good enough.

When all the dong quai was out of the patch of ground, they moved on, further into the forest.  The sea breeze drifted through the branches, dancing over the musk of grass and wild animals.  Jae-ha wasn’t worried as Gigan silently led him into the darker areas of the forest, where everything looked the same and relying on sight along would have left him lost, because the salty smell reminded him that he wasn’t far from home.

Well, it wasn’t his home.  It was Gigan’s.  He couldn’t call the city his own, either, because it belonged to people much better than him.  But it was close enough to what all his books said was a home — a place where there were smiles and kind people and comfort.  So everything the salty sea breeze reminded him of, Jae-ha could call a home (even if it wasn’t his to keep).

Gigan’s total silence, though, was increasingly unfamiliar and uncomfortable. He liked not thinking, sure, but there was an itch in his throat that made him want to talk.

“I wanna ask you something,” Jae-ha eventually said, when they were on their third patch of dong quai.  By then, their pouches were almost full and the sun was leaving its zenith.

“Go ahead,” Gigan responded as she tapped the ash out of the bowl of her kiseru.

“Awa’s a dangerous place, isn’t it?”

At his question, Gigan stopped digging.  She wiped away the sweat in her wrinkles with the back of her hand, leaving a short trail of dirt on her cheek.  She put her kiseru in her bag.  After a bit of deliberation, she answered, “It can be.  Awa’s still better than a lot of places, but… there’s a darkness creeping over the land.  Over all of Kouka, really.  It’s starting to destroy the happiness that was once here.”

           Jae-ha dug up another root before he sat still and listened to her.  The itch in his throat was gone.  “What about you?”

           “What about me?”

           “You’re in danger, too, aren’t you?”

           Gigan smirked.  “Look at you, worrying about me.  Women love that.”

           Jae-ha tilted his head.  What the hell did women have to do with him worrying about Gigan?

           “You’re old!”  Jae-ha exclaimed.  “I can protect you, but it’s easier if you can protect yourself, too!”

           In the beat of a speeding heart, something soared past him, cutting his cheek, and landing in the tree behind him with a soft _thud_!

           Jae-ha kept his eyes forward.  His cheek burned where a tiny slit had been made, a bit of blood creeping out.  Gigan lowered her hand.  He hadn’t even noticed her raise it in the first place.  She smirked.

           “I can take care of myself just fine.”

           He looked behind him.  Embedded in the tree was a blade, shaped like a leaf, but with raised and dangerous edges. It was flat only where the blade became a ring on the end, where a red ribbon was tied.  Jae-ha pulled it out of the tree with some difficulty — it was both deeply embedded in the tree _and_ challenging to hold without hurting himself.  Eventually, he succeeded in retrieving the blade, though his middle finger suffered a small cut for his efforts.

           “That…was kind of awesome,” Jae-ha muttered, looking at the weapon in his hands, turning it around to analyze it from every angle.  There were small scratches all over the metal, signaling that it was well-used, but the tip was still sharp, as if freshly made.  The blade was light, so that even a young child could carry it.  However it had an indescribable weight to it, something intangible yet noticeable.  ( _The weight of a life_.)  Obviously it was made for only the steadiest of hands.

           “Do you want to learn how to fight with those blades?” Gigan asked.  There was a tinge of pride in her words.

           Jae-ha placed the blade beside her knees.  He already carried one life on his shoulders, the spirit of someone whose freedom had only arrived with death.  It was light enough that he could still easily run from the regret and the memories (he had so much more to focus on instead, after all).  But to add to that spirit with more?  “Not right now.  Maybe another time.”

           “Then don’t act like you need to protect me,” Gigan chided without any anger on her tongue.

           “…Okay, Captain.”

 

* * *

 

           They made a stop for salted rice buns on the way back to Gigan’s home. The dong quai roots needed to be cut up and packaged before being brought to the Women’s District, and the delivery would most likely not happen until the next day.  So, they ate.  With their hands covered in soil, they ordered two salted rich balls, one for each of them, and they ate.  Gigan even finished her meal for once!

           To keep out the silence, Jae-ha hummed when he wasn’t eating, and ate when he wasn’t humming.  At one point, when Gigan was leading him into Western Awa where In-sik & Bo-young’s shops were, she asked him what song he was singing.  He lied that he heard some musicians playing it in Eastern Awa, though the truth was that he had made it up.

           “It’s a nice song,” Gigan said to him, with a small smile.  “I’d like to hear it played some day.”

           Jae-ha continued humming when he finished eating.  He closed his eyes, opening them every few seconds to check his direction and his surroundings.  He composed the song as he walked, writing the medley in his head while he practiced changing the beats and the pitches and the flow out loud. Something told him that Gigan would figure out that the tune was his own, since he kept changing it the same way any artist alters details of their works as they go.  But he didn’t care.  He liked the song.  He wanted to practice.

           Gigan’s hand on his shoulder, however, stopped him long before he could finalize the song.  He opened his eyes, came to a standstill, and held his breath.  Before him was horror, simple destruction that had left nothing but fear in its wake.

           Bo-young, the kind woman who had given Jae-ha the ribbon he tied his hair in, had been attacked.  Worrisome red trickled from her cracked bottom lip, ugly purple gathered around her swollen right eye, upsetting brown scattered over her cheeks and nose.  She was fallen.  Her eyes were open, and her gaze was focused, but she did not move at all or show any other sign of life.  Bora held Bo-young in her arms, tears streaming down face.  Behind them, Bo-young’s shop was in ruins, merchandise scattered, woodwork broken, totally ransacked.  Gigan squeezed Jae-ha’s shoulder quickly before she sped over to Bo-young, kneeling down to her and grabbing her hand.

           “Who did this?” Gigan asked, her voice so steady and resolute in comparison to the discomfiting scene before her.

           “Don’t know,” Bo-young answered, words slow and weighted with all the rage simmering under her blank exterior.  “But I want you to find him, Gigan.”  Bo-young turned her head, revealing the true extent of the brutality done to her in broad daylight.  “I want you to find him, and I want you to destroy him.”

Dangerous.

This place was truly dangerous.

 

* * *

 

           Gigan wasted no time.  She sent Jae-ha back to her home by himself, and she didn’t wait to hear his assent before she hurried off.  All it took was one look at the high hunch of her shoulders, the purpose in her stride, the clench of her fist, for Jae-ha to see her as an inferno, ready to burn anything that resisted her.  Jae-ha ran back to Gigan’s home without another thought, partly out of fear for disagreeing with her, partly because he couldn’t bring himself to remain so close to the sight of Bo-young and the atrocity wrought upon her.

           When he returned to the house, the silence was overbearing.  He tried to hum the song he had been composing.  But his voice trembled too much, so he couldn’t get the right pitch, let alone remember all the notes.  He chopped the dong quai roots at the kitchen table in the meantime, just to make noise, just to stop thinking, just to end the unease that stained the air around him and prickled his skin.  As he held the knife and aimlessly cut up the roots, it occurred to him that what had happened to Bo-young was probably what Seok-hee worried Jae-ha could have been done to Gigan, since their first meeting had resulted in a shoulder injury for her.  It made Jae-ha hate himself so much.  Hate how weak he was, hate how he let fear rule him, hate how he always chose to run away, hate how he always left someone hurting, hate the destiny of death and destruction burdened upon him when the dragon god’s blood chose _him_ of all children born in Ryokuryuu Village.  He hated everything about himself.

He was no better than Garou, wasn’t he?

           Jae-ha dropped the knife and punched the table.  The chopped roots went flying, scattering around the floor and on his lap and over the tabletop.  He wasn’t anything like Garou, damn it!  He had sworn to himself a long time ago that he would never let himself be so ruined by destiny.  He would run when staying behind was the worst option.  He wouldn’t ever let himself be chained down again.  He would live his life with all the freedom he deserved. He was going to be free, no matter the cost!

           Being a coward, though, was never in his plan.

           Jae-ha dropped his forehead onto the table, his hands in fists, teeth clenched hard enough to make his jaw throb with pain.  He was going to be _better!_ There was nothing he could do about being a monster, but he could at least try to be more of a person — a good one, at that.  A life had already been sacrificed to grant him freedom.  He could never waste it, especially not by hurting the people who deserved it the least.  He should go back to Bora and Bo-young, help clean up the mess and make sure Bo-young was okay.  That was a good place to start.  Then, once Gigan knew who had hurt Bo-young so terribly, he would find the culprit and destroy them with all the divine retribution his dragon leg accorded him. If there was anything a monster was good for, it was for destruction.  He could use that power for the right thing.  He would be better than Garou, who only ever knew how to break Jae-ha and himself.

           Jae-ha sighed.  He gathered the fallen pieces of dong quai root and dropped them into the pouch Gigan had given him.  He stood up, ready to run to Bo-young, but then he heard the front door slide open.

           “Anyone home?” someone called.

           Jae-ha recognized Ming-ju’s voice.  “I am!” he called back.

           There was some murmuring from the direction of the front door before the sound of at least two pairs of feet walking on the wooden floor could be heard. The front door was politely closed. After a few moments of waiting, Ming-ju appeared at the kitchen entrance, a large and rolled up sheet of paper in his hand.  Behind him was a scowling, brown-skinned woman with eyes darker than a raven’s feathers. She dressed like a man, in raggedy tan pants and an open shirt of the same color.  She kept the shirt together with bandages wrapped tightly around her stomach, but that still left an ample amount of cleavage bared for the world to see. However the skin of her breasts were marred by a large scar, created by some bastard’s sword, so any attraction that might have sprung up in Jae-ha quelled with respect to her injury.  She had black hair that reached down to her shoulder, but part of it was cut as close as her scalp, most likely after she lost some of it to a fire, if the burn scar in the top right corner of her forehead told him anything.

           Jae-ha didn’t bother to introduce himself or ask for her name.  She didn’t appear to have any interest in him, anyway, as she stormed past him and sat at the kitchen table with Ming-ju while he rolled out the paper.  It was a crudely drawn map of Awa.  Ming-ju spoke quickly in a language Jae-ha couldn’t quite understand, and pointed at various areas on the map.  The woman nodded along, offering her own incomprehensible comments often.  Jae-ha decided to leave them alone.  He needed to go to Bo-young.

           But when he reached the front door, he heard more voices behind it.  He could recognize Gigan’s.  Jae-ha opened the door slowly, so as to not interrupt her conversation.  He quickly regretted his choice, though, when he saw that she was talking to Seok-hee.

           “Please, listen to me Captain!  I have something important to tell you!” Seok-hee begged, hands clasped together.

           “Then hurry up and spit it out,” Gigan bit back.  She looked at Jae-ha out of the corner of her eye and took a quick drag from her kiseru.  “Or I’ll have Jae-ha send you flying.”

           Seok-hee’s expression shifted into confusion until he spotted Jae-ha in the doorway.  “Oh, Jae-ha, good afternoon,” he greeted, bowing quickly.  His eye didn’t twitch when he said, “I hope you are well today.”

           Jae-ha didn’t respond.  Instead he placed his hands on either side of the doorway, as though to block Seok-hee’s entry (despite the fact that he was showing no signs of wanting to come in).

           “It’s about Bo-young…” Seok-hee began.

           “If it’s about her being attacked, I already know.  I’m searching for the thief who did all that to her now,” Gigan interrupted.

           “It’s about the thief, actually…!”

           Gigan’s eyebrows raised, the scowl on her lips softening into the ghost of a frown.  Long moments passed before she placed a hand on Jae-ha’s stomach and softly pushed him back. She pinched Seok-hee’s sleeve and pulled him inside.  “Tell me everything you know,” she said to him.  Gigan led him to the kitchen, guiding him to go inside in front of her, and then she turned around, staring directly at Jae-ha.  “Listen up, brat.”

           Jae-ha wanted to contest the sudden insult, but the resolute fire in her eyes kept him silent.  “Yes, Captain?”

           Gigan’s lips hardened into a fine line.  “When we find the bastard who did this, I want you to be prepared,” she said, her voice lowering into a whisper.  “If things go wrong, I fully intend to use your powers to my advantage. You might have to send someone flying just like Nuri.  Someone might get hurt because of you.  But I can’t have you running away from that.  Any thief who would brutally attack someone the way Bo-young was is a person who can never be redeemed.  Nothing could ever excuse the violence he used on an innocent.  Got it?”

           Jae-ha smiled.  “Don’t worry. I made up my mind a long time ago to send that bastard into the ground.”

           Something like shock, maybe fear, flashed upon Gigan’s face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.  She smiled, albeit with notable dismay.  “Thank you, Jae-ha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a ride writing this chapter was! Haha, finally got to develop the main subplot of the story, so I hope you all are ready for shit to get fucking real in Awa lmao. As always, comments and critiques are super appreciated! <3


	11. To Be Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 2 months... I am So Sorry. Life just kinda. Happened. Thanks @ finals. Anyway, special thanks to EHyde for beta'ing this chapter!!

Ming-ju’s guest, the stranger-woman with a burn on her forehead and a scar across her cleavage, stood as soon as Gigan walked into the kitchen.  She bowed far enough to bring her head to the level of her hips and spoke in her strange tongue — Jae-ha could recognize the word _“hello,”_  but little else she said was intelligible to him.  Regardless, he copied Gigan’s response, a half-tilt bow with no words in response.

            “She says ‘hello, my name is Lian.  It is my greatest pleasure to meet you, Miss Gigan,’” Ming-ju translated, a proud grin on his lips.

            Gigan straightened her back and looked at Ming-ju, blinking several times before saying, “I didn’t realize you understood the language of Northern Kai.”

            Ming-ju laughed while the stranger-woman — Lian — sat down beside him.  “My fiancée is from the area, so she has been teaching me.  She and Lian are close friends, actually.  Lian has only been in Kouka for a short while, so she can understand us, but not very well, so I’ll translate to make things easier.”

            Gigan smiled.  “Thank you.  I definitely need to meet your fiancée now.”   She settled to her knees across the table from Ming-ju.  “Does Lian know about me because of your fiancée, too?”

            “More like your reputation precedes you, Captain!” Ming-ju chirped with a chuckle trailing on his words.  “Some of your husband’s mates were from Northern Kai, and when they returned, they had plenty of stories to tell about you.  When I told my fiancée that I work for you, she immediately sent a letter to Lian to let her know — she’s a fan of your stories.”

            With her back to him, Jae-ha couldn’t see Gigan’s face.  But he could notice the way her shoulders tensed ever so slightly at the mention of her husband — a man Jae-ha hadn’t known existed.  A chasm opened in the pit of his stomach, swallowing air and honest curiosity, leaving agitation, apprehension, anger, in its wake.  Irrational jealousy.  That was the fiend in his body, making him wonder why he didn’t know about her husband, about this huge fact of her life, about this apparent _secret_ of hers.  Did she have a child, as well?  A family, of any sort?  More people he should know about, yet didn’t?

            Then again, he would never tell her more about his life as the Ryokuryuu, so who was he to be upset?

            Jae-ha crossed his arms over his chest, digging his nails into his bicep and his ribcage, the sharp pain shouting a warning to the fiend in his body to either leave or be quiet.  Gigan, meanwhile, took a puff from her kiseru, her shoulders slowly loosening.  “Then I’m flattered,” she said just before bowing her head at Lian.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

            Ming-ju spoke in the unintelligible language, presumably translating Gigan’s words to Lian.  The latter woman smiled, bringing beauty to her marred face, and returned the bow with some more foreign words.

            “Lian joined me today after hearing about Bo-young.  She may look like a fighter, but there’s nothing she’s better at than strategy!” Ming-ju exclaimed, perplexingly chipper even when he mentioned the victim of theft and senseless violence they were all gathered to revenge.

            “Strategy, eh?” Gigan mumbled, unaffected by Ming-ju’s disposition.  “Well, we should give her all the knowledge we can so she can come up with something good.”  Gigan turned around, her eyes briefly meeting Jae-ha’s before sliding over to Seok-hee, who stood by the door, silent and unassuming.  “Get over here and tell us what you know,” she commanded to the man, who nodded in assent and sat at the rightmost side of the table, as far away as he could get from the others.  Jae-ha moved to block the doorway, just in case.

            “Before I begin, I would like you to know that none of my information is completely certain,” Seok-hee said, bowing his head with a grimace.  “But I would not bring this information to you if I wasn’t certain it would be of use to you.”

            Jae-ha glanced at Ming-ju, who seemed to stumble in his whispered translations to Lian.  She found it funny, however, if the small smile on her face meant anything.  Jae-ha glanced at Gigan.  Her expression had barely changed — her eyebrows were slightly more furrowed — but her annoyance couldn’t have been more obvious.

            “Hurry up,” Gigan ordered.  She took a long drag from her kiseru as she waited for Seok-hee to gather his thoughts.

            Seok-hee raised his head, breathed in deep through his nose, and exhaled slowly from his mouth.  “There is a gang of thieves here and in the neighboring cities.  I quickly came to know them when I started stealing on a large scale — when my goal was no longer keeping my family afloat, but trying to regain our status in the world.  They didn’t make me a part of their organization, because all they desired of me was a promise to never encroach on their territory without sharing what I stole with them.  But, over time, I made friends with some of the members.  Even when I stopped thieving, some of them kept in contact.  Of course, I will never go back to that life, but I cannot say the same of them.”

            Seok-hee sighed and turned his head to Gigan.  “Not too long after I left, a man named Kum-ji appeared.  I never met him, but my friends tell me he is a ruthless lord slowly gaining power in the Earth Tribe.  I am unaware of his intentions for Awa, nor do I know his whereabouts or if he is connected to Bo-young’s attack, but I do know he is using the gang to establish his influence here.  For the men who attacked Bo-young, I am unsure, but I can tell you the most likely perpetrators and how to find them.”  Seok-hee kowtowed, forehead and palms on the ground, his back arched and shivering ever so slightly.  If Jae-ha weren’t so accustomed to watching for even the tiniest of shifts in a person, he was sure he wouldn’t have noticed Seok-hee’s shaking.

            He heard Gigan harrumph while Ming-ju finished his translations.  Gigan’s lips were kept in a taut frown, but still, the words, “You did well,” left her mouth.  Seok-hee rose his head, eyes wide, jaw dropped, and Jae-ha couldn’t help it when the chasm reopened in the pit of his stomach.

            As casual as ever, Gigan asked, “Do you have any plans in mind?”

            Seok-hee stared at her for a little too long.  Jae-ha was about to shout at him when Seok-hee suddenly began nodding fervently.  “Yes, I do!  I believe a stakeout will be the best course of action for now.”

            As soon as Ming-ju finished his translation, Lian banged her fist on the table.  This time, nobody needed a translation, for Lian shouted in Koukan, “Stupid!”  But then she continued on in her native language, and Jae-ha had to wait for Ming-ju’s assistance.

            “She says ‘A stakeout would waste time.  More danger could occur while we’re waiting.  If Seok-hee already knows about the attackers, then we have all that we need to know to go on the offensive.  The sooner we bring justice for Miss Bo-young, the better’,” Ming-ju slowly delivered, a substantial lack of assurance in his voice.  “Sorry, she spoke really quickly, so I don’t know if I caught everything she said,” he added with his eyes downcast.

            “You translated correctly,” Seok-hee supplied.  “I learned some of the Northern Kai language when I studying in Kuuto — I cannot speak it, but I can understand somewhat.  You were fine.”

            “Ah, really?  Thank you!” Ming-ju replied.

            Jae-ha wanted to puke.

            “She has a point,” Gigan mumbled.  She looked over at Jae-ha, and he immediately straightened his back.  “What do you think?” she asked him.

            Jae-ha made his hands into fists.  “I think Lian’s right.  We should act as soon as possible.  I don’t want Bo-young to keep suffering…”

            Gigan hummed thoughtfully.  Seok-hee, sitting on his knees, scooted until his body was directed towards Jae-ha.  “I agree with you.  However, I have to remind you that I am not completely certain about the perpetrator.  We could attack the suspects, but that wouldn’t guarantee a win.  The actual attacker would still be around, and suffering would come upon someone else.  Moreover, our operation would be out in the open, so the attacker would be wary of us, which would only make our mission more difficult.”  Surprisingly, his eye did not twitch at all as he spoke to Jae-ha.

            “Plus, we don’t know _why_ Bo-young was attacked in the first place,” Gigan added.  She looked at Lian.  “Don’t you think it’s better to understand their motive, as well?”

            “Motive… is theft,” Lian answered in Koukan, her voice like horse hooves on gravel.

            “But why Bo-young?” Gigan immediately questioned.  “She repairs clothes and sells simple things, like ribbon and string.  She doesn’t have much money — and even if she did, as far as I know, she has no dealings with anything that would warrant the beating she received.  The only good reason I can think of for why she was attacked is her family relations.”

            “Family relations?” Jae-ha asked.  “Is her husband up to something?”

            Gigan shook her head.  “Her husband’s too much of a chicken to get into any dirty business.  But Bo-young is Bora’s twin sister, which makes Hyeok her brother-in-law, and Hyeok _is_ the kind of person who would sully his hands and bring his family down with him.”

            Jae-ha bit his tongue at the mention of Hyeok, the bastard who dared to call himself Bora’s husband.  The revelation that Bo-young and Bora were twins was something of a surprise, but since they looked so similar, it didn’t seem so strange, after all.  His final question, then, was what Hyeok could be up to, what sinister deed he was engaging in to warrant an attack on his sister-in-law and her shop.

            Lian spoke in her native language again.  Ming-ju’s translation followed with the words, “We should investigate Hyeok and the thieves.  For one day.  Then attack with what we know.  Compromise?”

            “Compromise made,” Gigan replied.  “Jae-ha, tomorrow morning, after we fish, go visit Bora’s house and try to find out what you can about Hyeok and Bo-young.”

            “Huh?  Why me?” Jae-ha mumbled.   “Can’t you do it?”

            “ _No_ ,” Gigan answered, quite forceful in her tone.  “Seok-hee needs to show me his suspects, and I need to plan with Lian.”  She tapped the tabletop with her fingertips, pointing directly to noticeable cut marks made when Jae-ha had been chopping up dong quai.  _Oh_.  That couldn’t be good.  “Plus you marked up my table, so this is your punishment, brat.”

            Jae-ha gulped.  Well, if he valued his life, and his place to stay, there definitely was no arguing with her.

 

* * *

 

            The tides were turning in their favor.  After hauling in three nets of fish, the worried, dreary, pale faces of the sailors turned bright — pleased — _hopeful_.  Too absorbed with thoughts of Hyeok and Bora and Bo-young, Jae-ha couldn’t be bothered to ask anyone if their happy expressions meant the fish were returning, allowing for larger hauls and more revenue.  He could only assume it as such, particularly when he received the bag containing his and Gigan’s joint share of fish for the day was heavier than it had been as of late.  As he hefted the bottom of the bag into the crook of his elbow, letting the rest of the bag lie against his upper arm and shoulder, a second sack of fish landed at his feet.

            “Captain says I’m on market duty today, so take this home for me,” Hyeok commanded.  His voice was rough, akin to the sound of a shovel piercing soil.  His white hair and the scar tracing diagonally from his left temple to his right jaw made him into a death god who loomed over Jae-ha with a manner all too familiar to the boy with marred wrists.  Forcing himself to look Hyeok in the eyes, Jae-ha picked up the sack of fish and carried it over his shoulder, a silent agreement to do as commanded.  It certainly gave him an excuse to speak to Bora.

            Hyeok laughed, kind in nature yet malicious to Jae-ha’s ears.  “You’re not a bad kid, Jae-ha.  Glad the Captain has you.”  He slapped Jae-ha’s back, the force causing Jae-ha to stumble forward.  Words of retort were dead in Jae-ha’s throat, however, so he could only swallow his anger and walk away silently, planning in his head how he could grill Bora for information without worrying her.

            He could ask her right away, get the problem over as quickly as possible.  But then there was the chance that she would be confused, or try to defend her husband, or be too consumed by grief for her sister to think.  So perhaps it would be better to drop the question after testing her mental state?  Perhaps.  He could ask her about Areum, then Bo-young, then Hyeok — give her time to process and him time to think.  Should he also try to comfort her, just in case?  Hand her good news, even if it was false?  Anything that could bring her nice smile to her face?  That was a good idea.  Saying kind falsehoods was better than nothing at all.  But _what_ would he tell her?  The only true good news he could bring her was that Gigan was after Bo-young’s attacker, and that the fish might be returning, so her hard times should be over soon.  Yet that wasn’t definite — soon could very easily turn into later, days becoming weeks becoming months.  It was good news, but it wasn’t good enough.  So, a lie it would be.  Perhaps tell her that the attacker was already captured?  By one of Gigan’s friends?  Justice would be served after Gigan knew why Bo-young was attacked?  Perfect.  So, when Jae-ha saw Bora, he would give her the false good news, then make his way to talking about Hyeok.  What a great plan.

            After dropping off his and Gigan’s share of fish inside Gigan’s kitchen, Jae-ha hurried to the neighboring house, knocking on the door and announcing his arrival.  As he waited for Bora to answer, he went over his plan, the words he would say, the way he would express himself in hopes she would comply and remain calm.  When the door opened, however, on the other side was Areum, Bora’s young daughter, dressed in her yellow robes and red sash, her blonde hair tied in a high ponytail, her smile as strained and nervous as it was the day Jae-ha had met her.  All of Jae-ha’s ideas tumbled out of his head, through his ears and his open mouth, with his surprise.

            In the daylight, Jae-ha could see that Areum had a small splattering of freckles under her eyes and across her cheeks and the bridge of her round nose.  Embarrassed red rose to her skin, hiding her spots and directing him to her brown eyes.  He noticed flecks of green in her irises, like the remaining slivers of grass after the soil was tilled.  Physically, he already considered her very cute.  But after this new discovery, he could only add the word _pretty_ onto his description of her.

            “Good morning, Jae-ha…” Areum greeted with a slight bow.

            His mind quickly snapped back to attention, and he immediately returned the bow with a(n accidental) shout of, “Good morning!”  When he raised his head, Areum was clutching her chest with both her hands, the perfect example of shock and worry.  “S-sorry…” he whispered.  “I didn’t mean to frighten you…”  Carefully, Jae-ha set Hyeok’s sack of fish at Areum’s feet.  “Your dad is on market duty today, so he told me to deliver his share here…”

            A long stretch of silence, of muted nervousness between two children, followed.  It was Areum who took the incentive, took the courage, to reply with a whispered, “Thank you… And it’s alright.  Dad’s always telling me I need to be braver.”

            Jae-ha focused his eyes on the ground, away from the subject of his rushing heart.  “Don’t listen to him.  You’re fine the way you are…” he mumbled.

            “I-I’m sorry?” Areum asked.  “I didn’t hear you.”

            “Nothing,” Jae-ha said, just loud enough for her to hear him.  “Is your mom home?”

            Areum nodded as she picked up the sack of fish.  “She’s napping, but I’ll go wake her up.  Come inside.”

            Jae-ha followed Areum into the house.  He closed the door behind him and waited at the entryway, reluctant to add the footsteps of another monster to the floors of Areum’s home.  There were some whispers, the sound of rustling fabric, and then the heavy footsteps of an adult.  Bora appeared in front of him in almost no time at all.  In less than a day, the shock of her twin sister’s attack had already imbedded itself in her.  The wrinkles around her eyes were more defined, more like the wings of crows rather than their feet.  The brown of her hair had faded, some grey already showing at her hairline.  There was little light inside the house, due to a lack of windows and lit candles, so the more Jae-ha looked at Bora, the more she became a shadow, rather than a human.

            “You need to talk to me?” Bora questioned, her voice as soft and sweet as ever.

            “Y-yeah…” Jae-ha mumbled.  “Bo-young… how, uh, is she…?”

            “With her family,” Bora answered.  “Resting.  The doctor told us that she isn’t fatally injured, but it’ll take her awhile to heal.”  Tears welled up in Bora’s weary eyes.  “I wish I could be with her right now but…”  She raised a hand to her lips, as though to create a dam to the river of her emotions.  “I need to be with mine, too.  I’m her sister, but blood can only go so far.”  Bora took a noticeably deep breath, closing her eyes in the brief moments before she exhaled.  She let her hand fall, revealing a tight smile — one that left little wonder as to how she and Areum were related.  “All I can do for now is hope that her attacker is caught.”

            “We know who he is!” Jae-ha responded without much thought.

            Hope, that great enchanter, shone through the tears in Bora’s eyes.

            Not daring to steal happiness, Jae-ha gulped down the correction that jumped into his throat — the correction that they didn’t know for _certain_ , yet, who the attackers were, and that Gigan was choosing caution over action.  He didn’t speak of word of that.  Instead, he garbled out a different truth.  “But we don’t know why he hurt Miss Bo-young.  I-I was hoping you might have an idea.”

            Bora drew her mouth into a line as she pressed her hand against her heart, digging her fingers into the fabric of her robe.  Obviously lost in thought, the tears left her eyes, leaving only foggy curiosity.  Areum and Jae-ha, not willing to interrupt, kept to themselves.  But as Jae-ha waited for Bora, Areum decided to leave, taking herself further into the house, where Jae-ha dared not to follow her.  Almost as soon as Areum disappeared into another room, Bora found her answer.

            “Not too long after the fish started disappearing, Bo-young said she was looking into some new stock.  She wouldn’t tell me what it was… All she said was that as soon as Hyeok could support us on his own again, she would give up on her stock.  I remember, when I relayed the message to my husband, he looked so stricken.  Does that help at all?”

            Jae-ha gulped.  That stock was doubtlessly the source of the problem.  The possibilities of _what_ it was, though, were as numerous as they were worrisome.  Hiding his clenched fists behind his back, doing his best to calm the way his hands shook, Jae-ha nodded.  “Thank you, Miss Bora.  I’ll let Captain Gigan know.”

            He began to back up, attempting to open the door and leave without having to turn around and let Bora see his fear.  Bora, showing no signs of noticing his worry, bowed with small, yet relieved, smile.  “Thank you so much, Jae-ha.  Please, whatever you do, find him.  And destroy him.”

            Jae-ha attempted to ignore the way his heart leapt out of his chest at the ruthlessness in Bora’s words.  Or how she smiled so sweetly and waved him goodbye, before disappearing into another room.  Jae-ha opened the door, turned around, ran out, focused all his energy in his dragon foot, ready to leave, ready to tell Gigan everything, ready for this to _just be over_.  But before he could leave the ground, foolishly reveal himself to anyone who may be watching, he heard his name, called from a voice as sweet as water to a dry throat.

            “Jae-ha!  Please wait!”  It was Areum.  Jae-ha stopped.  He turned back around.  Areum was on the other side of the threshold, bare feet on the very same patch of floor Jae-ha had just been standing on.  “I…I have a gift for you.”

            All the energy in his foot immediately drained.  A gift?  For _him_?  “Are you stupid?” he accidentally asked aloud.

            Her faced turned red again, but he noticed that not a single sign of courage left her posture.  “I-I noticed the bandages on your wrists.  I don’t know if you’re hurt, but—!”  Areum thrust forward her gift, a small, white bottle, held preciously in her two hands.  “Please use this!  If you’re ever in pain, you can apply this, a-and it’ll help!  It’s Mom’s recipe, and Dad helps her make it when he has the time, and it always works because it’s made with love!  So, please, use it…!”  She bowed her head, her arms shaking, and she didn’t dare to raise her head until Jae-ha finally found the courage to take the bottle from her.

            “Why me…?” he mumbled, staring at the tiny bottle in his hand.

            “You always seem upset when I bring over Mom’s food, so I thought you might be in pain…” Areum muttered.  “And to thank you, I guess.”

            Jae-ha tucked the bottle into his shirt.  “Thank me for what?”

            “For staying,” Areum replied.  “Nobody ever says anything about it, but I know Captain Gigan is always really sad when her kids leave her.  Even though you left, you came back, right?  And Dad doesn’t think you’re leaving anytime soon.  So, um, thank you.  For making Captain Gigan happy.”

            ( _You weren’t born to make anyone happy_.)  “I’ve never made anyone happy.”  He was only a bringer of death and destruction.  He could use that power for good.  But he was no harbinger of joy.  “…I’m going to be better, though.  So, thank you, I guess.”

            Areum gave him a look he had seen too many times before.  Her mouth open, the lines from the corner of her lips down to her jaw accentuated, eyes wide, and her shoulders hunched forward.  She wanted to say something, but there were too many words to speak yet not enough courage within her to utter them.  He could only guess that she wanted to either praise him or admonish him.  He could only hope that she wouldn’t say a thing.  There was no changing the ugly present or his doomed future.  Nothing she could say would alter the path he had already chosen.  But Areum was smart.  She closed her mouth and she straightened her shoulders.  She bowed to him in silence, bidding him farewell without a word.

            “I’ll avenge your aunt.  I promise.”  And that was all Jae-ha said to her before he rushed into an alleyway, checked for any watchful eyes, and flew off to find Gigan.


	12. Protecting What Was Never His

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to OMGItsGreen for doing the beta for this chapter!  
> Warnings for bone breaking, violence, & lots of self-hatred a la teen Jae-ha.  
> Song for this chapter: Omen by Guilhem Desq

           The stakeout was far into East Awa.  The area was made up of gorgeous buildings and quaint homes that transformed quickly into precariously built houses barely big enough for one person.  The layout was haphazard, with a good number of the structures old and falling apart. According to Gigan, the city as a whole had started in the east.  Perhaps that was why the area was so prone to decay, to being a hovel for the homeless and hungry and horrible.  In his month away from Gigan, Jae-ha had mainly stayed in East Awa, keeping to the shadows and fighting over food.  He had come to know that the people in the east were the wary sort, the kind of people who would climb a building if they heard something land on the rooftop.  So he was careful to watch the ground for onlookers whenever he was about to make a dragon’s jump.  But he didn’t leave the sky until he finally spotted Gigan.

           In most parts of Awa, there was something of an invisible line that dictated where each and every building lined up with its neighbors.  The line kept the streets straight, with plenty of walking space for the citizens. When he found Gigan, it was on a street that ignored the regulation.  Houses jutted into the walkway, neighboring buildings way too close to each other or uncomfortably far away.  As soon as Jae-ha took to the ground, the urge to return to the skies filled him, swelling with the same amount of desperation and fear that had consumed him every time Garou kept him from escaping the Village.  He swallowed and ignored it, however.  He reminded himself, ( _It’s better here_ ).

           Gigan was with Lian and Seok-hee and a man Jae-ha didn’t recognize.  Ming-ju was nowhere to be seen, but Jae-ha had a feeling the man was fine, wherever he was.  When Jae-ha approached, Gigan didn’t notice, nor did any of her companions.

           “Big tits.  Blonde hair.  If you’re lookin’ for someone connected ta these thieves ov yours, she probably has a lot ta do with ‘em,” the stranger said.  He was a tall fellow with a blue rag tied around his forehead and nearly covering his eyes.  He had a strong, square jaw, but the whole of his body was too skinny to match his scary face or rough accent.

           “Can’t you give us more information?” Seok-hee asked, wringing his hands.

           The stranger shrugged.  The murky green robe he was wearing was too big for him, so it nearly fell off him with the movement of his shoulders.  “That’s all I noticed about her.  She’s probably one ov those whores in tha west.  She wasn’t shy with those tits ov hers.”

           Seok-hee sighed.  The expression on his face carried polite aggravation — he was annoyed, but he wasn’t about to take it out on anyone.  With a half-hearted wave, the stranger walked away.  Jae-ha finally made his presence known by tugging on Gigan’s sleeve.

           “Oh, there you are,” Gigan said as she looked at him, not the least bit startled.  “Did you get anything?”

           Jae-ha nodded.  “From what Bora told me, I don’t think Hyeok is involved.  Bo-young picked up some new stock to help the family when we weren’t catching many fish anymore.  She was going to stop selling as soon as the trouble was over, apparently. Hyeok looked upset when Bora told him about Bo-young’s plans, but I don’t know if he did anything else.”

           Gigan grimaced.  “So Bo-young got into this mess all on her own, huh?”  Her voice shook ever so slightly when she spoke. She crossed an arm over her stomach and dug her nails into her side.  It was nearly imperceptible, but Jae-ha could see the worry pouring into Gigan.  It was slow, not the same knee-jerk reaction to fear Jae-ha was regularly guilty of, but it was consuming her nonetheless. The need to comfort her tingled in Jae-ha’s hands, a restless desire that relentlessly bothered him, but he chose not to act on it.  She was a proud woman.  Plus, he was never any good at reassuring others.

           Lian spoke up.  “Hyeok might be…” She bit her lower lip, eyebrows furrowed as she tried to think of the word she wanted to use.

           “Do you think he might know something?” Seok-hee supplied.  Several seconds passed before Lian nodded.

           “He was…looked upset, said you,” Lian mumbled as she pointed at Jae-ha.  He had to wonder why anyone let Ming-ju leave when Lian was left struggling so much.

           “Yeah, that’s what Bora told me,” Jae-ha replied. He looked at Gigan.  “He probably knows what Bo-young was selling.  Should I go find him and ask?”

           Gigan’s shoulders tensed.  “No, I’ll go talk to him myself,” she decided.  “You go home.  Watch over the shop.  You got money for lunch?”

           The tingling sensation in his hands worsened. Something was eating at her, something worse than the problem with Bo-young.  Jae-ha nodded, though.  He had a feeling that if he asked, she would only become angry or the irrationally jealous chasm would open up inside him again.  “Do you want me to buy something for you, too?”

           “No, no need,” Gigan instantly answered. “I’ll be out for a while, don’t waste your money on me.”

           “O-okay…” Jae-ha mumbled.  He reached into his robe to pull out his sack of coins.  The bottle of medicine Areum had given him shifted against his stomach as he opened the sack to count his money.

           Meanwhile, Gigan began to give out orders. “Seok-hee, go get Ming-ju out of his hiding spot and have Lian take his place.  Make sure to catch him up.  Do some more information collecting with Ming-ju for a while, then report to me. I’m going to go talk to Bo-young, then to Hyeok.  If you can’t find me, find Jae-ha and tell him everything you know, got it?”

           Seok-hee’s eye twitched.  If he had any objections, however, he didn’t say a word of them. “As you command, Captain.”  He bowed dutifully.  Gigan didn’t return the gesture.  Instead, she saw Seok-hee and Lian off before turning to Jae-ha.

           “Why the hell are you still here?”

           He had finished counting his money about halfway through Gigan’s commands.  He had enough for a few pork buns and a packet of tea leaves.  “I wanted to hear what your plans were,” he replied earnestly.

           “Well, you heard them, so go home now,” Gigan ordered, a bit more brusquely than usual.

           “…Yes, Captain,” he mumbled before turning around and running for her house.

 

* * *

 

           It took a long stroll through the marketplace, two pork buns, and a cup of tea to remove the tingling in Jae-ha’s hands. The selfish need to care for Gigan remained in his system, bringing pangs of worry into his mind every few moments, but he dealt with it by simply reminding himself that he had no place trying to do more than protect her.  As much as he liked her and her company — as much as he found himself trusting her much more than he thought he should — as much as he didn’t _want_ to leave — he had to remember that he was a monster. Sooner or later, it would be time for him to run away again, enjoy the unadulterated freedom he had always craved, and never return to Gigan.  As Jae-ha put Areum’s medicine bottle next to his sleeping mat, he realized that perhaps leaving would be his own choice, but he knew it was more likely that his identity as the Ryoukuryuu would become common knowledge in Awa eventually, regardless of how well Gigan’s crew could keep a secret.  He could protect her and the warmth she offered, of course, but it was not his right, not his duty, not his _nature_ to offer his care.  Nor was it in his ability to keep Awa out of trouble once his secret was out. Eighty-five years ago, armed forces had ravaged Ryokuryuu Village, murdering innocents in an attempt to capture the dragon warrior of legend.  The best protection Awa had were the lazy guards who had already forgotten the value of human life.  Tragedy would only strike once the power of the Ryokuryuu became common knowledge.

           Garou crossed his mind.  Jae-ha, moving to sit behind the counter, grabbed his chest and bent over.  If there was ever a perfect example of the damage humans could do to a Ryokuryuu, Garou would be it.  A month and two weeks had passed since the tortured soul had finally been put to rest. Jae-ha could still so vividly remember every moment of his escape from Ryokuryuu Village.  The glint of the arrows.  The way Garou’s face contorted with anguish and joy and desperation, ugly tears running down his hollow cheeks.  That horrendous, lonely, agonizing moment when Jae-ha could no longer feel Garou’s presence, a fire that had been reignited only to be immediately snuffed out.  It hadn’t been very long at all since Garou had made his sacrifice.So much had happened, yet Jae-ha still found himself missing the man terribly.

           Thinking of Garou and thinking of his new life only brought _what ifs_ to Jae-ha’s thoughts. What if Jae-ha had managed to escape months or years earlier?  Would Garou have gone with him?  Would the result have been the same?  What if Garou had passed away when he was expected to, when Jae-ha was three or four years old?  Would Jae-ha be the same person?  Would he be any happier?  What if Jae-ha had never been chosen as the Ryokuryuu successor?  Would Garou have found a purpose to his life?  Or would some other poor child have been chosen? Would Jae-ha have had a happy life with his family?

           The problem with _what ifs_ were that they always brought Jae-ha back to his mother, Jeong.  He didn’t miss her.  There wasn’t much to miss.  But he had never stopped wondering about her.  He had wished for her as a child and had wished for her all the stronger after her death.  Would she have been a good mother to him?  What about his father?  Would he have had a little brother or a little sister?  Would he have fought with his sibling or would he have been a doting brother?  Would he have despised the Ryokuryuu warriors the same way the rest of the Village did, as a coward who found it easier to blame a rough life on people who had nothing to do with the Village’s misfortune?  Would he have been any happier with a family than with Garou? These were questions he had no point in asking.  Yet there they were, troubling his mind, bringing tears to his eyes, evicting positivity from his body.  Oh, how he hated these thoughts.  How he hated his destiny.  How he hated himself.

           A knock at the door.  All the emotions coursing through Jae-ha came to a screeching halt.  He stood up, arms crossed over his stomach, hands clutching his elbows.  The door slid open, revealing a woman on the other side.

           “…Bad time?” the woman asked.

           “N-no,” Jae-ha replied quickly and half-heartedly. “Come in…”

           He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down.  It just barely worked.  The woman stepped in.  She wore a long, plain, light blue robe that reached her ankles and had been tied in a way that allowed for her shoulders and an ample amount of her cleavage to be bared.  Her hair was thin and blonde and scarcely reached her shoulders.  Her lips were painted vermillion, her cheeks dusted with rouge, and her eyebrows drawn on. She would have been beautiful if it were not for the sharp, critical glare in her eyes.  The crinkles around her eyes and lips and the way her cheeks sunk gave her an ugly, almost ominous, appearance, as well.  She was a courtesan, an old one at that.  Jae-ha gulped.

           “Where’s Gigan?” the courtesan asked.

           “Out,” Jae-ha answered.  “What do you need?”

           She crossed her arms under her chest, which only served to further accentuate her large breasts.  Jae-ha did his best to keep his eyes trained on her face.  “Dong quai.  Got any of it?”

           Jae-ha nodded.  The night before, neither he nor Gigan could sleep, so they had cut and packed all of the dong quai they had gathered.  The small, plain, stringed pouches with the roots sat under the counter, in a shelf directly to Jae-ha’s left.  In a shelf to the right of the dong quai was a rectangular box, which, according to Gigan, contained a variety of herbs and medicines she kept for personal use and for sale.  He could remember that the dong quai was supposed to be delivered by him and Gigan, but he figured that there had been a change in plans, which was why the courtesan had arrived for the roots.  He gathered all of the pouches — seven in total — and placed them out in front of the courtesan.  She reached into the space between her breasts — Jae-ha immediately looked away — and brought out a brown pouch filled to the brim with gold coins.  Jae-ha didn’t understand much about currency, but he could tell that she was paying way too much for the dong quai.

           “Have a good life, kid,” the courtesan said while she picked up the dong quai, slid the stringed pouches over her left wrist like bracelets, and began to leave.

           “You’re paying too much!” Jae-ha called after her.

           “Use it to buy yourself something nice,” she answered just as she stepped outside and closed the door.

           Something was wrong.  He had to catch her attention again so he could keep her near the house.  A present, as thanks for all the money she had given him, might be good.  There had to be something in the rectangular box under the counter.  Jae-ha took it out and opened it.  Nothing inside looked familiar, except for a cup of the herbs Gigan smoked.  His eyes also caught a pearl necklace, strung like a choker, with a beautiful jade gemstone fastened in the middle.  Jae-ha could guess that both items were precious to Gigan.  Or, at the very least, she would notice if they were moved and she would be _mad_.  He decidedly took the arguably safer route and grabbed something at random — a sack no bigger than the tip of his pointer finger.  He figured there was nothing but shreds of herbs inside, but it would have to do.  He had no time to waste.

           When he exited through the front door, he saw the courtesan rounding a corner into an alleyway.  She wasn’t all that far away yet, but still Jae-ha ran as quickly as he could.  He had always been a fast runner.  He wasn’t sure if it was due to his cursed leg or if it was simply an innate ability of his, but either way he was thankful for it as he caught up to the courtesan in two blinks of an eye.

           “Please wait!” he called.

           She turned around.  The sharp look in her eyes stabbed at his heart when she looked at him.  Terror, born from memories of a man torn between a desire to live and a need for death, welled up inside him.  He tried his best not to think about the many times Garou had had the same look the courtesan did.  Instead, Jae-ha held out the tiny sack, hoping his trembling wasn’t obvious.

           “A-A gift!” he stuttered.  “For, uh, your payment.  E-e-extra…”

           The courtesan raised a drawn eyebrow.  The terror inside him wasn’t quelling in the slightest.  Perhaps thinking of Garou and his mother had set something off inside him.  Maybe those memories and _what ifs_ had left him unstable, emotionally or mentally or both. Or perhaps there was just something about the courtesan that set him on edge.  A maliciousness that dwelled inside her and made it difficult for Jae-ha to think.  Or maybe he was just nervous because this was his first time trying to persuade _anyone_ , and his own lack of experience did nothing to sooth him.  It could be all of the above, none at all, or a gross in-between mix.  Regardless, he didn’t know why he couldn’t stop being afraid. All he wanted to do was hurry up and run away.

           The courtesan snatched the tiny sack from him, the pouches of dong quai swinging on her wrist as she did so.  She looked inside and scoffed.  “These are regular tea leaves.”  The corner of her lip raised into something between a snarl and a grin.  “I doubt these are worth all the extra gold I left you.”

           “Th-then—!” Jae-ha started, “Your name!”  He had no idea what he was doing.  The best course of action would be to keep her at or near the shop, so Gigan could investigate her.  He should be knocking her out to ensure she wouldn’t be going anywhere. Instead, he was asking for her name. What an idiot.

           “…Chan-mi,” she replied slowly.  She squinted at him, as though trying to find every little crack within him.  “What about you?”

           “Jae-ha…” he answered.  “M-maybe I could treat you to tea…?” 

           She snickered and began to back away, further into the deserted alleyway.  Jae-ha stepped with her.  “When a man asks a woman to share tea with him, he smiles, you know.”  With her right hand, Chan-mi reached into the space between her left breast and her robe.  “If you keep wearing that expression on your face, nobody’s gonna trust you.”

           Chan-mi pulled out a knife.  Jae-ha reacted quickly, shifting his weight to his left foot as he swung his dragon’s leg at her side.  But Chan-mi was faster, more experienced, and though she took the blow, she simultaneously stabbed him in the shoulder.  The blade pierced his skin and the pain was too intense for him to even scream. Chan-mi hit the wall while Jae-ha fell to the ground, and though he was bleeding, she showed no signs of injury.  Rather, she was out of breath, but got to her feet with little trouble.  Had his kick gone soft because of the pain?  He couldn’t figure it out.  The world was beginning to blur.  He could barely focus on either his question or the image of Chan-mi walking towards him.  Before he knew it, her hand was on his mouth while her other hand was on the knife’s handle. Chan-mi was slow as she pulled her weapon from his shoulder.  Jae-ha screamed, but she kept him muffled.

           “Forget about me,” she hissed.  Her breath tickled his skin, but he couldn’t make out her face. All he could see was an ugly blur. “I’m fixing Awa, so don’t you dare get—”

           The world went black.

 

* * *

 

           Jae-ha had broken his bones three times.  At age six, his left pinky finger had fractured. It had been his own mistake.  He had woken up in the night to see two ghastly green ghosts hovering over Garou in his sleep.  They had had talons for teeth and bodies transparent.  In a rush to protect his predecessor, Jae-ha’s pinky had been caught in the chains and _crack_ , the bone had fractured and he had screamed loudly enough to wake Garou and half the village.  The ghosts had disappeared in response to his screaming, but they reappeared several nights later, to Jae-ha’s terror.

           At age eight, several days after his birthday, many months before his mother’s death, his right arm had been broken.  It had been Garou’s work.  That day, his eyes had been set in an empty glare and his mouth could only scream, “I don’t want to die!”  He had stomped on Jae-ha’s arm with his dragon’s foot, the impact splitting the bone.  Jae-ha had cried into the floor, careful not to alert the villagers to the torture he was enduring, because he didn’t want Garou to lash out on anyone else — or maybe he had been afraid Garou would have done something even worse to keep Jae-ha silent.  A day later, Garou had groveled at the feet of the village chief, begging him to have the village doctor (a young man whose knowledge had been passed through generations of his family) treat Jae-ha.

           At age eleven, long after he had become numb to Garou’s abuse, he had attempted to run away.  Garou had caught him, as he always had.  But Jae-ha had fallen wrong.  His human foot had hit the ground first, and it had twisted, and soon enough he had been on the ground, biting his bottom lip to keep from yelping when Garou tried to make him stand up.  Jae-ha had made a splint for his ankle soon after, and neither he nor Garou had commented on the injury.

           Every time he had broken a bone, the pain had lessened.  He knew he had simply grown used to the agony, since the older he got, the worse the abuse had become.  But he had never been stabbed.  Despite the threat of arrows in the Village, not a single one had ever hit him.  When he woke up, thirteen years old and in the room Gigan had given him, his first sensation was a searing, aggressive pain that inflamed his entire left shoulder.  He was barely bleeding and he still had plenty of feeling in his arm, but if he dared to move, agony would rip through him, bringing tears to his eyes and unwanted memories to his mind.  He wasn’t sure what hurt worse, a stab wound or a broken bone, but the former was too unfamiliar for him to handle well.

           “Captain…” he called, hoarse and hushed.  There was no response.  His throat was dry and his body so very weak.  Jae-ha took a deep breath, steeled himself for pain, and shouted, “Captain!”

           In heartbeats, she was at his door.  Gigan was a pale woman in spite of how often she was under the sun.  But when she answered his call, he realized that she had lost even more color in her skin. Purple had bloomed under her eyes, a sure sign of sleep deprivation.  When she walked to him, he could see the exhaustion in the slump of her shoulders and the slight waver in her walk.

           “How’re you doing?” she asked as she sat down next to him.  He realized then that he had already been treated.  Bandages were wrapped around his chest, shoulder, and upper arm, and a wet towel was placed on the area of his injury.  He even had a blanket covering his stomach and legs.  Gigan removed the towel and used a dry cloth to soak up the water left on his shoulder.  Jae-ha gritted his teeth when the cloth passed over his wound.

           “Feeling splendid,” he answered sarcastically when Gigan was done.

           “At least the bleeding went down,” she replied absently.  She dropped the wet towel into the wash basin from the kitchen.  “Can’t say the same about the swelling.  I’ll have to change your bandages when the night hits.”

           “How long will that take?”

           “Not very long at all.  It’s already dusk.”

           Jae-ha’s heart leapt.  “I-I’ve been out for that long?”

           Gigan nodded.  “The blade that stabbed you had a sleeping agent on it.  We couldn’t wake you up no matter how hard we tried.”

           “We?”

           “Me, Areum, Bora, Ming-ju, Lian.  I found you and told Bora, and she had Areum alert everyone else.  Seok-hee was here, too, but I think he was too scared to even come near you. Whoever stabbed you, you must’ve kicked them pretty hard, ‘cause there was a big indent on the stone wall near you. Don’t believe anyone but me and Seok-hee noticed, though.”  Gigan raised a hand to her lips, as though to smoke, only to belatedly realize she didn’t have her kiseru with her.  She sighed.

           “I didn’t kick her that hard…” Jae-ha mumbled. “She was walking just fine after taking the blow.”

           “You had a drug in your blood by then, brat,” Gigan retorted.  “Your reasoning should have been screwed.  Trust me, she’s probably just as badly injured as you are.”

           He racked his brain.  His memories didn’t match up with Gigan’s account, but he trusted her more than he did himself.  Especially since she hadn’t been drugged.  So his powers hadn’t failed him, then.  Somehow, that was comforting.  “Did you find out anything from Bo-young?”

           “Tell me what happened to you first,” Gigan said.

           Jae-ha wasted no time in telling her the story. She immediately asked him what Chan-mi looked like and he answered dutifully.

           “Did she have big breasts?” Gigan questioned.

           Jae-ha’s face heated up.  “Y-yeah.  She hid _everything_ in there.”

           Gigan’s eyebrows furrowed.  She sighed again.  “So our sources were right.  This Chan-mi is connected to the thieves.”

           “I don’t think she’s working with them,” Jae-ha said.  “She told me she’s trying to save Awa.”

           Gigan scoffed.  “Save Awa, huh?  One hell of a way to go about it…”

           “What did she want with all the dong quai, though?” Jae-ha asked.

           Gigan was silent for a long moment before telling him, “If she’s not working with the thieves, then she’s probably planning on poisoning them.”

           “I-isn’t it for brothel women?!” Jae-ha exclaimed.

           Gigan picked up the towel from the basin, wrung it out, and placed it on his shoulder again.  She frowned, her expression so sad that Jae-ha could barely look at her for fear of the need to comfort her.  “In small dosages, dong quai can induce miscarriages.”  Jae-ha’s stomach lurched with thoughts of his mother.  “But in large dosages, it can be a powerful poison.”

           Jae-ha rubbed at his eyes, keeping his tears at bay. He had to focus on the task at hand. “How is she going to poison them if she’s not working with them?”

           Gigan motioned for him to sit up.  He could only use his right arm, so it was rather difficult.  Gigan tried to help him at one point, but he flinched away from her touch.  He tried his best not to notice the disheartened look in her eyes.  Instead, he grabbed the towel that had fallen onto his lap and draped it over his shoulder. The wound was just under the curve of his shoulder, so it was easy to keep it covered by the towel this way.

           “It’s a long story, but here goes…” Gigan muttered. She handed him the bottle of medicine Areum had given him.  “Drink some,” she commanded.  “It’s good for relieving pain.  Anyway, from what I’ve gathered from you, Bo-young, and Hyeok, Chan-mi _is_ working with the thieves, but she’s planning on betraying them.  Someone approached Bo-young about a drug she could sell.  It’s nutmeg powder mixed with alcohol.  Called Lao.  Potent stuff. It’s a lucrative trade, though, and Bora’s family was low on money, so Bo-young decided she would sell for however long she needed to, until Hyeok was back on his feet.”  Jae-ha nodded, already knowing that part of the story. He took a drink of Areum’s medicine while Gigan continued.  “Chan-mi met Hyeok a few years ago when he was trying to get off the bottle.  They’ve been good friends for a while, apparently. She approached him when she heard about Lao coming into Awa, tried to ask for his help in selling it, but he refused.”

           “Wait,” Jae-ha interrupted.  “If they’re good friends and she wants to betray the thieves, then why did she want Hyeok’s help in _selling_ Lao?”

           “There’s a few possible answers.  We know that the thieves weren’t related to the people who got Bo-young to sell Lao in the first place.  Most likely, the thieves want to monopolize the trade for themselves, so they attacked Bo-young as a warning to the producers.  ‘Bring us into the deal or else’ — something like that.  Chan-mi might want to monopolize the trade, too, and Hyeok makes for a good intimidator, so she could use him to those ends.  Alternatively, she wanted to get Hyeok in the trade so she could betray him, too.  Just because Hyeok sees her as a friend doesn’t necessarily mean she sees him the same way.  Finally, maybe she just wanted Hyeok to profit.  If she gets rid of the thieves, she also gets rid of any chances that Hyeok’s family would come into danger while he’s selling Lao.”

           “So how does saving Awa tie into selling Lao?” Jae-ha asked.  He took another sip of Areum’s medicine.  Surprisingly, it tasted rather good.

           Gigan rubbed her forehead.  “Hell if I know.  Only thing for certain is that I don’t want you in on this anymore.”

           Jae-ha nearly dropped the bottle.  “ _What?!_ I thought you wanted me to beat up the perpetrators!”

           “Only if it came to that,” Gigan refuted, her voice sharp with anger.  “But you’ve been hurt!  I don’t want anything more to happen to you.”

           “I can still move!  I can jump!  So long as I don’t move my arm, I’m _fine!_ ” Jae-ha argued.

           “I don’t care!” Gigan nearly shouted.  She looked him right in the eye, challenging him to fight back.  “You saw what happened to Bo-young.  I can’t have that happening to you, too.”

           Jae-ha held her gaze.  “I’m not Bo-young,” he told her.

           At that, Gigan faltered.  She frowned and turned away.

           Jae-ha dug his fingers into the blanket covering his legs.  “Captain…” he began, “why have you seemed so afraid this whole time?  I don’t think I’ve seen you relax at all since we found Bo-young.”

           Gigan’s shoulders tensed.  He hated it when they did that.  “It has to do with my husband,” she whispered.  “When all this is over, I’ll tell you.  Promise.”

           Jae-ha nodded.  “When are you going to go after Chan-mi?”

           “Tomorrow morning.  As soon as the fishing’s done, I’ll be meeting up with Ming-ju, Lian, and Seok-hee in the Women’s District.”  He noticed one of her hands curling into a fist.

           “Okay…”  Jae-ha capped the bottle of Areum’s medicine and set it down next to him.  “I’m sorry, Captain, but I’ll be going there, too.  I want to protect you and Awa.  I’m a—” he paused for a moment before gulping down misery and saying, “—I’m _the_ Ryokuryuu.  I was born to protect a king who won’t ever be coming for me.  But y-you did come for me.  You fed me and gave me a place to stay and work to do.  At least let me do what I can to repay you.”

           “…You’re an idiot,” Gigan murmured.  “ _I’m_ the one who wants to protect you.”

           “Then let’s protect each other,” Jae-ha answered. “No matter what you say, I’m not going to change my mind.”

           Gigan turned to him again.  A ghost of a grin was on her face.  “You’re a stubborn brat.”

           Jae-ha smiled despite the sadness coursing through him.  He had no idea why he was upset, but there was no point in trying to change the fact. “It’s my only good quality.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like my playing “Zero Time Dilemma” influenced the brutality of this chapter. Also, fun fact! The name for the drug introduced in this chapter, Lao, is taken from the street name for alcohol in Thailand. Most likely the word comes from a popular rice whisky in Thailand called lao khao (เหล้าขาว), which is also known as sura khao (สุราขาว). Thanks @ Wikipedia for your help. If you can’t tell, I’m very bad at coming up with names. In case you’re curious, by the way, yes nutmeg is a drug. In large doses, shit can fuck you up, to put it diplomatically.


	13. After so Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... let’s start off with a quick summary of the story thus far. Jae-ha is currently 13 years old and finally starting to make himself a home in Awa with Gigan. Gigan is the captain of a fishing vessel, though she also does some information brokering on the side as part of her goal to protect Awa. Recently, a friend of Gigan’s, a merchant named Bo-young, was brutally attacked by a gang of thieves. Some investigation revealed Bo-young was dealing a drug named Lao. At the center of the mess is a courtesan named Chan-mi, who was introduced when she came to buy a drug named dong quai from Gigan’s shop. Jae-ha, sensing something was wrong because Chan-mi paid a shitton of money for the dong quai, tried to get more information out of her, but the interaction resulted in Chan-mi stabbing Jae-ha in the shoulder and Jae-ha kicking her into a wall. Chan-mi claims she is using Lao to “save Awa,” but nobody on Jae-ha’s side is really sure what she meant by that.  
> And now for a quick summary of all the OCs in this chapter, by order of appearance/mention!!!!
> 
> Areum - The daughter of Gigan & Jae-ha’s next door neighbors. She is 8 years old & quite shy. It has been hinted that she is beaten by her father whenever he is drunk.
> 
> Chan-mi - A courtesan who is presumably behind the trade in Lao. She is friends with Hyeok.
> 
> Lian - A woman from Northern Kai. She is close friends with Ming-ju’s fiancee and is a genius strategist. She has trouble speaking Koukan, however, and needs Ming-ju to help her translate.
> 
> Ming-ju - A man who is apart of Gigan’s information-gathering network. He knows a few people in Gigan’s fishing crew, but he mainly keeps to himself. He is engaged to be married to a woman from Northern Kai.
> 
> Seok-hee - A fisherman in Gigan’s crew. He is a former thief who decided to remain in Awa despite his reputation. He and Jae-ha do not get along well.
> 
> Bora - Areum’s mother. As a way of thanking Gigan for hiring her husband, despite all his problems, Bora cooks breakfast for Gigan and Jae-ha every morning. She is also a victim of her husband’s drunken beatings.
> 
> Bo-young - Bora’s twin sister. She was brutally attacked by thieves, who were most likely trying to send a signal to those selling Lao - “let us in on the deal, or else!” She has been rendered near-immobile after the attack, though she is slowly healing.
> 
> Byung-ho - A fisherman from Gigan’s crew. He is best friends with Min-ki. He is quite boisterous and friendly, although he has the same level of emotional reactivity as Kija.
> 
> Hyeok - Areum’s father, Bora’s husband, and Chan-mi’s friend. Despite his drunken tendencies, he has no connection to the Lao business.
> 
> Min-ki - Byung-ho’s best friend and a fisherman in Gigan’s crew. In contrast to Byung-ho, he is rather calm and collected. Jae-ha finds him rly attractive, like damn.
> 
> Nuri - A character who appeared when there was an illegal papers-forging business going on in Awa. He attacked Gigan when he suspected that Gigan was going to try to take down the business. Jae-ha knocked him out to protect Gigan, which is when she found out he is a Ryokuryuu.
> 
> Jeong - Jae-ha's mother. See chapter 8.
> 
> Finally, here’s a quick recap of my parentheses use:  
> (This is an aside)  
> ( _This is Jae-ha’s thoughts_ )  
> ( **This is the dragon** )  
> ( _ **This is the dragon influencing Jae-ha’s thoughts**_ )

The morning was more difficult than Jae-ha expected it to be.  Even when he slept on his good side, the wound in his shoulder left a burning sensation that bothered him throughout the night.  Every time he hissed in his agony, he would wake Gigan, who had decidedly put her futon next to his so she could tend to him at any time.  After a round of her fussing and him arguing with her and telling her to _go to sleep, Captain, and stop worrying already_ , he would dull the pain with Areum’s medicine, and doing so left him drowsy enough to get at least _some_ shut-eye.  But by the time Gigan woke up in the morning to change his bandages and prepare for work, Jae-ha was far from well-rested.  In fact, he was just plain _grumpy_ and would gladly do anything to halt time, let his shoulder fully heal, and _then_ go beat up a bunch of thieves and Chan-mi.  But, no, there was no way he would allow Gigan to go into this dangerous mission by herself.  Lian looked like a good fighter, but Jae-ha doubted Ming-ju’s combat ability, and Jae-ha couldn’t trust Seok-hee with Gigan’s protection.  So Jae-ha was just going to suck it up and go through the day without any complaining.

            Well, that’s what he would _like_ to think, but as soon as Gigan asked him how he was feeling, a long, loud groan escaped him and it sounded like a pretty audible complaint to him.

            “Yeah, I expected as much,” she replied.  “After all that whining last night, I’m tempted to lock you up in here so you won’t follow me on today’s mission.”

            “I’d just break down the door, you know,” he retorted, every word rumbling in his throat.

            “If you did that, I’d ban you from pork buns for a month.”

            “What?  No fair.”  And definitely not possible, because he’d snitch some anyways.

            To his embarrassment, she offered to help him wash off.  He had sweated heavily throughout the night and it would be better, according to her, if he didn’t allow any sweat to get into his wound.

            “I-I’ll take care of it myself!” he protested with more energy than he thought he had.  In a rush to pull his shirt back on, he accidentally used his bad shoulder and soon found himself doubled over, cursing himself silently.

            “Hmph.  Don’t be a prideful brat,” she chided.  But when we looked up at her, a retort on his tongue, he saw a smile flicker on her lips, and all his irritation crashed as quickly as it had erupted.

            Gigan left the room, allowing Jae-ha to re-dress himself in privacy.  He could get his shirt back on and pull on his shoes by himself, but he had to ask Gigan to tie his sash for him.  He could tie it himself with one hand and his teeth but it would come out as a horrible, ugly knot, and that simply would not do.  As she made a nice bow with his sash, he heard her mumble that they would have to buy him some new clothes soon.  He wasn’t sure why he was so tempted to hold her to the idea, to the chance to go out and shop with her.  Without him having to ask, she also retied his hair ribbon and helped him clean out the wounds on his wrists.  He had to bite his bottom lip while she re-applied the medicinal cream to the abrasions, memories of terrifying shackles creeping up on him, but she told him a small story about the first time she went on a boat (and subsequently fell off because of the shenanigans of her companions), and the memories weren’t so bad anymore.

            Areum arrived soon afterwards.  Gigan started some tea while the girl served portions of the breakfast her mother had prepared.  Sliced up fish, mixed with rice and a variety of vegetables, was served into his and Gigan’s bowls.  To his surprise, Gigan gave her share to Areum.  “I’m sure you haven’t eaten yet,” she said as she put the bowl in front of the girl.

            “It’s fine, Miss Gigan!” Areum protested as she picked up the bowl and tried to return it to Gigan.  “I’m gonna eat with Mom and Dad.”

            “Stay here with Jae-ha,” Gigan rebutted, soft yet stern with her command.  “I need to talk with your father before work begins.”  Not allowing further argument, she turned her attention to Jae-ha.  “Pour her a cup when the tea is finished,” she ordered.

            “Of course,” Jae-ha replied.  “Make sure you eat,” he added off-handedly.

            Without another word, Gigan departed.  It was odd eating without Gigan nearby, sharing the tired morning silence with her.  But he figured that time spent with Areum was time well-spent.  After grabbing a pair of chopsticks from the jar in the middle of the table, Jae-ha picked out a slice of fish, stuck it in his mouth, and chased it with a more than enough rice.  Chewing it all down to mush, he couldn’t help but notice something a bit off.

            “This isn’t how Bora usually cooks it,” he said through a full mouth.

            Red rose on Areum’s cheeks.  “M-mom hasn’t been feeling well… so I cooked breakfast today.”  She slapped her hands over her eyes, a cutely pitiful noise escaping her lips.  “I’m not as good a cook as her… I’m sorry you have to eat something so bad.”

            “I’ve had worse,” he assured her just before he swallowed.  “It just needs some more spice.”

            Areum sighed.  “That’s what Dad says as well.  He really likes pepper…”  She sighed again, miserable.  “I guess I should just be glad it’s edible…”

            Jae-ha was about to agree with her when a shrill screech pierced the room.  Steam was racing out of the nozzle of the teapot, evacuating into cooler air.  “Tea’s ready,” Jae-ha smartly announced as he put his chopsticks on his bowl.  He braced his right hand against the table, willing himself to stand, but Areum was quicker to rush to the stove, cover her hand with her sleeve, and move the teapot away from the flame.

            “You’re injured,” she said.  “I’ll take care of this.  You need to rest.”

            “Do you know where the cups are?” he asked.

            “Um…” she replied.

            Humor tickled his lips as he stood up and retrieved the cups from the cupboard on the left side of the stove.  “Here you go,” he told her, placing them within her reach.  When she filled one cup, he took it to her spot at the table, then took the other to his spot when it was full.  The two children sat down with smiles on their faces and Areum set the teapot at the center of the table and finally began to eat.

            Several long moments passed in amiable silence.  The food was bland, the fish too dry to chew with ease, so Jae-ha poured some of his tea into the mixture.  He noticed Areum copy him and almost began laughing when her eyes lit up at the new taste.  She mumbled something along the lines of “how did you think to do that…” Jae-ha decided he might want to try cooking for her one day.

            When breakfast was done, Areum insisted on cleaning the dishes.  He didn’t object — he was ready to go back to sleep.  He was about to put his head on the table and try to get some shut-eye when Areum spoke up.

            “I have a cousin.  His name’s Maya.  He’s Auntie Bo’s son,” she said.

            “Auntie Bo?” Jae-ha murmured, unfamiliar with the name.

            “Aunt Bo-young,” Areum corrected, and he could’ve sworn he saw red tickle the tips of her ears.  “Maya’s a few years younger than me.  I’m eight, he’s six.”

            The name _Maya_ struck Jae-ha as recognizable — when he had first met Bo-young, when he had received a lovely ribbon for his hair, she had mentioned her son.  He had been sick then but Bo-young had believed whole-heartedly in his quick recovery.  “Is he okay?”

            Areum nodded.  “Yeah.  He’s always been good at being brave… He’s always getting sick or hurt, but he never complains.  I’ve always wanted to be like him.”

            Jae-ha wasn’t sure how to respond, but he managed to sputter out, “Why are you bringing him up?”

            “Because I think he’s finally too scared to hide it.  I went to visit Auntie B—Aunt Bo-young yesterday, and he wouldn’t leave her side.  She’s finally able to sit up without trouble and we might be able to remove the bandages from her face soon, but Maya… is acting like she’s going to die.  My mom is even worse…” Something heavy dragged itself up her spine, weighed down her shoulders, and she took her hands out of the basin, letting her wet knuckles lay lack against the ground.  “I can’t shake this feeling that she’s worrying about something more.  Has Miss Gigan mentioned anything?”

            Jae-ha’s feet ignored his exhaustion and took him to Areum.  He sat on his knees next to her.  “Captain’s really upset, too.  She told me that it has something to do with her husband…but nothing more.”

            Areum released a shuddering breath.  He wanted to hold her up.  More than anything, he wanted to take this burden from her.  Instead, he fidgeted with the frayed ends of his shirt.

            “I feel like…” Areum took a pregnant moment of silence, blinked twice in rapid succession, and finally said, just above a whisper, “a scar is forming on Awa.”  Her bottom lip quivered.  She slapped her hands over her mouth, as though to hide her fear.

            “I’m scared too,” Jae-ha admitted without thought.  Her curious eyes prodded him to continue.  “I think I was finally starting to be happy here…and now it’s being taken away from me.”  It was strange, being so open.  From beneath his skin, every worry, every emotion, every trauma struggled to break free, to escape his usual secrecy and silence.  He looked away from Areum and glued his eyes to the stove, for fear of what her kindness could do to him.

            “Are you okay?” he heard her ask.

            Her voice overwhelmed any attempt to lock down his emotions.  Words flew out of his throat, broke through the feeble bars he called teeth, and jumped from his tongue.  “I don’t remember the last time I was okay.  I’ve always been afraid of something or someone.”  He brought his right wrist into view.  Areum whimpered.  ( _Screw it_.)  He wanted to tell her everything, finally get all this torture out of his body, regain his happiness even if it would not last long.  He turned to her, mouth open to speak, but he brought his lips back together as soon as he saw the smile of pity on Areum.

            “I don’t know if I can help you…” she murmured.  He couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad about that.  “But I think Miss Gigan can help.  So, please… _please_ stay.  Even if it’s scary, please stay.”

            Jae-ha fought back the urge to be angry.  She didn’t deserve his rage.  “I never said anything about leaving,” he mumbled.

            The smallest of smiles appeared on her face.   “Thank you.  A lot.”  Areum wiped her hands off on her robe, then got to her feet.  Jae-ha stood up with her.  “I know this is weird but… for some reason, I feel like you being here is going to fix a lot of things.”  She laughed nervously, her giggle more of a breath than a sound, and she avoided looking at him.

            Jae-ha decided not to tell her that he didn’t believe her.

            Areum declared that she should return home.  She needed to clean the dishes for her mother.  Jae-ha told her he would see her off.  They walked to the front door, Jae-ha in front of Areum, but when he pulled the door open for her, Areum did not step outside.  Threads of sunlight poured through the threshold, ethereal light enveloping Areum’s hair and skin.  When she turned to him, air hitched in his throat, and he forgot the weight in his heart.  In that moment, she was the center of everything.  His eyes drank her in.  The hunch of her shoulders.  The way she squeezed her fingers.  The uncertainty painted in her expression.  And it all passed like a slap — a moment unforgettable, yet quick to end.

            Areum rushed forward.  Her arms encircled his neck.  Her chest pressed against his.  Her ear touched his.  She held him, closer than anyone ever had or ever should have.  Her warmth froze his bones.  Memories long forgotten, days of a child and a struggling soul, returned and breached his eyes with tears.  Confusion, regret, desperation — it all washed away in the tides of affection.  He wanted to keep her there forever.

            But just as he had to breathe, he had to be prepared to lose.  Areum squeezed him, just once, before releasing him.  Jae-ha was torn between reaching for her and running away.  He stood at a stalemate.  Blushing, she looked at the ground.

            “Bye bye, Jae-ha.  Rest well.”

            And then she finally left.

* * *

 

Gigan returned for a short while.  “Want to make sure the dishes are cleaned,” she said.  “Nothing worse than a dirty kitchen,” she mumbled.  To her muted pleasure, everything was clean.  She patted his back, returning him to his senses.  “Go get some rest,” she commanded as she departed again.

            He returned to his room.  He took off his clothes and removed the bandages from his dragon leg.  A basin made of wood and filled to the brim with water sat next to his futon, a rag hanging limp over the rim.  Gigan had used it to clean his face of sweat and to cover his injury — she had told him that cold water reduced inflammation, whatever that meant.  He stepped into the basin, soaked the rag, and began to wipe himself down.  He couldn’t stand the thought of smelling bad.  He rubbed his neck and his good shoulder, cleaning all traces of Areum’s touch and the uncomfortable sensations it had left on him.  He wiped his legs and made sure to clean between his toes, careful of his talons.  When he was finished, he stepped out and pulled on his pants, pretending he didn’t care about how gross it was when wet skin met dry cloth.  He kneeled, pulled out the ribbon from his ponytail, and was quick to wash his hair.  He decided to wait until Gigan returned so she could help him put on and re-tie everything.

            He slept then, wet hair pooling under him like a cushion of overgrown grass.  It was a dead sleep, one that left him dizzy when he was roused from it.  Gigan was calling his name and pinching his cheek.  Eyelids half-raised, he grumbled and lazily knocked her hand aside before he stubbornly turned on his side, fully intending to curl up and go back to sleep.  Except he rolled onto his bad shoulder.  Embarrassingly, he yelped and sat up.

            “Afternoon, sunshine,” he heard Ming-ju greet.  He didn’t have to look up to know the man was snickering at him.  Jae-ha made a rude gesture.  Yet when he checked to see if Ming-ju was properly aghast, the man only appeared confused.  Huh.  Must be a village thing.

            “You’re the one who insisted on coming, so no complaining,” Gigan chided.  A breeze suddenly brushed against his bare chest and he belatedly realized that she had cut off his bandages.  His nose shriveled up at the smell of pus.

            “Yeah, I won’t…” Jae-ha mumbled.

            “‘ey, ‘ow’s our boy doing?  _Eugh_ , that’s a nasty wound ya got there.”  It was Byung-ho.  His dirty blond hair made of a myriad of waves and curls bounced against his brawny shoulders as he walked into the room and squatted down.  “Ya sure ya wanna come, Jae-ha?  With a stab like that, I’d just wanna sleep.”

            “Aren’t you _always_ sleeping?” Gigan calmly retorted.  She grabbed the rag from the wash basin and rung it out.  Jae-ha bit his bottom lip as she dabbed his wound.  She was careful, no doubt about it, but every little touch made him want to scream.

            “I’m a growing boy!” Byung-ho replied, grinning brighter than the midday sun.

            “Aren’t you eighteen?” Ming-ju asked.  He sat down next to Jae-ha with a dry rag and a roll of bandages in his hands.  Gigan took the dry rag to Jae-ha’s shoulder while Ming-ju dutifully began wrapping Jae-ha’s chest.

            “A boy never truly grows up,” Byung-ho supplied.  There was a glint in his eyes, the same he always got when he won an arm-wrestling match.

            “I can’t believe you’re proud of that,” Gigan said.  She threw the wet rag to Byung-ho and put the dry one on the rim of the wash basin.  “Take that to the back with clothes to be washed.”

            “Aye aye,” he obeyed.

            “So, any updates?” Jae-ha asked.  Gigan redirected his question to Ming-ju so she could go grab something from her room.

            “We know which brothel Chan-mi is at,” Ming-ju answered.  Much to Jae-ha’s chagrin, the older man began wrapping the bandages over his injured shoulder and down his arm.  “Some of the fishermen recognized her description.”

            “Hyeok didn’t know?” Jae-ha asked, though his voice quivered slightly from the pressure being put on his wound.

            “Nah.”  Byung-ho returned to the room, answering Jae-ha’s question.  “Hyeok’s a real piece of work, but unfaithful ‘e’s not.  Even if ‘e was crazy drunk, ya couldn’t get ‘im into a brothel.”

            “So we’re going there next?” Jae-ha prompted.

            “Yep,” Gigan said as she also returned.  In her hand was a hair brush.  “Soon as you’re presentable.”

            Byung-ho’s eyes shone.  “I call braiding Jae-ha’s hair!”

            “Absolutely not,” Jae-ha immediately snapped.

            “You heard the kid,” Gigan grumbled as she sat down behind Jae-ha.  Byung-ho, quite loudly, whined — Jae-ha could’ve sworn he even saw tears in his eyes.

            “That goes for you too!” Jae-ha shouted at Gigan.  “I can brush my own hair!”

            “Too late,” she answered as she took a section of his wet hair and brushed it.

            Ming-ju, finishing the bandaging, chuckled.  “You’re so shy,” he observed, his voice so sweet it bordered on mocking.

            “Shut up!” Jae-ha swatted at Ming-ju, but the man was quick to lean back and laugh.

            Byung-ho, with nothing to do, began searching around the room.   Most of the space was empty, lacking any signs that Jae-ha had ever existed there.  So Byung-ho was quick to find the book Jae-ha had bought himself on his birthday.  It was thin, bound by black string and a green cover, with an ink dragon drawn on the front cover.  With Gigan brushing his hair, her calm movements soothing his mind, he could only idly observe as Byung-ho opened the book.

            “Ryokuryuu, huh?” Byung-ho sat down, crossing his legs.  “Is ‘e your favorite?”

            “Favorite…?” Jae-ha murmured.  Something soft swept against his hand.  He looked down and then raised right arm when he realized Ming-ju was going to help him put his shirt on.

            Absentmindedly flipping through the pages, Byung-ho nodded and said, “Yeah, don’t all kids got a favorite dragon from the legend?”  He snickered.  “My littlest sister is always saying she wants to be Seiryuu so she won’t go blind like grandma!”

            Gigan raised Jae-ha’s hair so Ming-ju could pull Jae-ha’s shirt against his back.  He heard her murmur about how he shouldn’t go to sleep with his hair wet.  “Being a dragon isn’t that great…” he responded to Byung-ho.  He put his right arm through his sleeve and bit his lip while Ming-ju helped him with his left sleeve.

            “What~?  It sounds awesome!” Byung-ho retorted.  “Ya get to be a warrior of the _gods_!”

            “They’re selfish bastards,” Jae-ha grumbled.

            “Aren’t we all?” Gigan interjected.  She finished brushing Jae-ha’s hair and started collecting it in a ponytail just as Ming-ju began tying Jae-ha’s shirt together with a cloth belt.

            “Ne, what’re all these extra bandages for?” Ming-ju asked, changing the subject with ease.  He pointed to a pile of bandages Jae-ha had left next to the wash basin.  “They’re not dirty at all.”

            “Oh, they’re for my leg,” Jae-ha replied.

            “What?!  You’re injured there too?!” Byung-ho shouted.  “What the hell ‘ave you been through?”  He rushed over, but Jae-ha was quick to react.

            “I’m fine! I’m not hurt!” Jae-ha pulled his blanket closer to himself, trying to ensure his dragon leg was covered.  “I-it’s…um…”

            “An old injury.  He’s shy about letting people see it,” Gigan supplied.  She tied his hair together with his ribbon, and he was never so happy to have her so nearby.

            “Ooooooooohhh.”  Byung-ho nodded, satisfied.  “I get it!  Well, don’t worry so much, Jae-ha!  You’re a pretty good-looking kid, nobody’s gonna care about a bad leg with a face like yours.”

            Jae-ha turned around to Gigan.  “Am I that pretty?”

            Gigan hummed.  “You’re not bad.”

            Heat and an enthralled self-esteem rushed through Jae-ha.  He was sure he was grinning brighter than he ever had before.  “Th-thanks, Byung-ho…”

            Byung-ho guffawed.  “Not a problem.  C’mon, Ming-ju, let’s get moving.”

            “Eh?  You’re going?” Jae-ha asked.  “Where?”

            “To the brothel Chan-mi is at,” Ming-ju answered.

            “As soon as the crew heard about the situation, half of ‘em wanted to join in.  They’re going to provide protection just in case something goes wrong,” Gigan explained.  “Even Hyeok is going — he wants to talk to Chan-mi and get this all sorted out, apparently.”

            At that, Ming-ju and Byung-ho said their goodbyes, though it was obvious Jae-ha would be seeing them soon enough.  As soon as they were gone, Gigan knelt in front of Jae-ha, the bandages for his leg in hand.  After a lot of hesitation, he removed the blanket and pulled up his pant leg.

            He noticed her stare for a little too long.  Out of fascination or disgust, he didn’t know.  But before he could kick her out and do the job himself, she began wrapping his calf.  “How were things with Areum?” she asked.

            “Fine…” Jae-ha lied.  “But she’s pretty shaken by what happened to Bo-young.  Everyone is.  There’s…something more to this problem with Lao, isn’t there?”

            Her fingers flinched.  “Not sure yet.  But we have our suspicions…”

            “We?”

            Gigan sighed.  “Me, Hyeok, Bora, a few people from the crew… Something similar to this happened a long time ago.  We’re worried it’ll happen again.  But there’s no way to tell for certain until we confront Chan-mi.  All I know right now is that I want to completely wipe Lao from the streets.  Nothing good comes from letting drugs like that stick around.”

            As she spoke, she finished covering his leg with bandages.  When she let go, Jae-ha was quick to stand up and hurry to the front door so he could put on his shoes.  He could barely stand another second with his leg exposed to her.  “What happened all that time ago… did it have to do with your husband?” he questioned.

            Gigan was silent for a long moment before answering.  “Yes.  As I said, I’ll tell you everything later.  No point in making you worry over nothing right now.”

            Jae-ha rolled down his pant leg as Gigan slipped on her shoes.  He wondered how different she would be if her husband was still with her.  If he had left her, if he had died, if he had been taken away from her — Jae-ha had no way of knowing.  But the weight of his absence was obvious in Gigan’s voice.

            “By the way… Are you okay?” Gigan asked.  “You’ve seemed off.”

            “Off how?” he questioned.

            “Well, you’ve never struck me as the stable type—” Jae-ha wasn’t sure if he should be insulted or not, “—but you’ve seemed… sadder.  Has something else been on your mind?”

            Jae-ha considered for a moment, just for a moment, telling Gigan at least something.  About Garou.  About his mother.  About the ceaseless anxiety that had been coursing in his veins ever since they found Bo-young bruised and bloody and battered.  But there was no point in worrying her over nothing.  “Not really,” he answered.  “Let’s go.”

            Jae-ha opened the front door and turned around.  To his surprise, she was wearing a small smile.  “You’ve been so tough through all this.  Good job.”

            And the warmth in his heart was suddenly too much to handle, and he had to look away just to stutter out a, “Thanks…” to her.

* * *

 

            Chan-mi’s brothel was far into West Awa, where elegant buildings crowded each other and drunkards crashed into crafty courtesans.  The further Gigan’s group went into West Awa, the closer the fishermen moved to Jae-ha, until he was completely surrounded in the middle of the troop, unable to see anything but the stomachs and backs of tanned men.  It was somewhat suffocating, and a bit annoying because he had no way of knowing the way they were going, but he kept silent, even when Ming-ju moved to Jae-ha’s side and put a hand on his back.  He counted the pebbles on the street to ignore the burning touch against his shoulder blades.

            When they reached the brothel, the men took the front with Gigan, while Lian stayed in the back with Jae-ha.  Together with a few other men, they were left outside of the building.  Lian was wearing a bright yellow shirt with long, puffy sleeves that reached the heels of her hands.  Her pitch black pants were just as puffy as her sleeves, but she had obviously cut them off at her knees and then poorly sewn them back together.  Jae-ha had no idea why Lian had decided to cover herself so thoroughly.  Though he had only known her for a few days, he had grown accustomed to the sight of her bared midriff and ample cleavage, presenting no shame about the massive scar across her chest.  Unable to contain his curiosity, Jae-ha asked,

            “So, why all the clothes?”

            Lian looked at him with her nose scrunched and her eyebrows furrowed.  She was concentrating.  It was kind of cute.  “Protection me,” she attempted.  Jae-ha could only assume that she meant the clothes acted as some sort of barrier.  If someone attacked her with a blade, they would hit the cloth before her skin.  “And hides weapons!” she added.  Jae-ha didn’t want to know what she could possibly have under her shirt.  “When friend is injured, I can…” Lian’s mouth fell open.  Before Jae-ha could offer his help, she made a tearing noise and gestured ripping off a part of her sleeve.  “Offer aid like that!”  She grinned, apparently proud of herself.

            “Oh… smart,” Jae-ha replied, not really certain if he completely understood what it was she was trying to tell him.  Maybe he should ask Ming-ju to teach him the Northern Kai language.

            Hyeok’s voice cut through the crowd.  “Just tell us where she is, damn it!”

            Without second thought, Jae-ha pushed his way to the front, forcing his way into the brothel.  The inside was more than he expected.  Unlike the barely decorated houses he had become used to, the brothel was decked out with candles and curtains, incense and perfume mixing together to make an intoxicating, sickening, alluring smell.  All of the windows were covered, the only source of light coming from the opened front door and the innumerable amount of candles scattered throughout the floor and up the steps.  In his short time in Awa, he had seen plenty of courtesans walking the streets.  Yet, surrounded by the walls of the brothel, he could barely believe the number of women he saw.  A few were modestly dressed, but most sat or stood around with their legs peeking through slits in their clothes, their breasts fighting against the strict confines of their dresses and robes.  A few men sat with the women, but the man at the center of everyone’s attention was Hyeok.  He had a courtesan’s arm in his hand, his grip causing her to wince.  With his white hair and the scar tracing from his left temple to the right side of his jaw, Hyeok appeared as the most terrifying of aggressors, a man with nothing but ill intentions.  The courtesan was tiny in comparison to him.  And it occurred to Jae-ha then that there had been a time, and maybe many more, that Hyeok had done this to Areum.  To Bora.  When he had had too much to drink, he had _hurt_ them.  Power rushed to Jae-ha’s dragon leg, smoldering and righteous, filled with the strength of a god’s blood, and Jae-ha could do what he wanted with it.

            ( **Get rid of him**.)

            A hand grabbed Jae-ha’s shirt, pulling him back just as he was about to take off.  Jae-ha glared at the offender.  Min-ki looked back, astonishingly gorgeous with the patient smile he gave Jae-ha.  “Your fight hasn’t come yet.  Don’t make a ruckus.”

            ( _Stay calm_.)

            Jae-ha exhaled slowly.  There were too many people around for him to use his power.  He took a step back and stifled a laugh when Gigan slapped Hyeok.  She separated him from the courtesan and took her own approach.

            “Is Chan-mi really not here?” she asked, collected as ever.

            The courtesan rubbed her arm, her shoulders trembling.  “Like I said, I-I don’t know.  None of us do!  We haven’t seen her since y-y-yesterday.”

            Gigan hummed.  The smoke from her kiseru danced lazily.  “Is there any way to get into the brothel besides the front entrance?”

            The courtesan nodded.  “Of course.  There are stairs on the backside of the building.  But they lead to the third floor, and almost no one goes there…”

            Gigan looked at her crew.  “You heard her.  Third floor.  Get moving!”

            The courtesan began to protest, but her words fell on deaf ears as the men strode through the building and up the stairs.  Gigan passed a small bag of money onto the courtesan to silence her.  Min-ki finally released Jae-ha’s shirt as Gigan made her way to the stairs, and Jae-ha followed his captain through the crowd of fighters, taking the front lines with her.

            The third floor was no different from the first, except for the pure lack of people.  A few sliding doors could be seen along the walls, but only one had noise coming from behind it.  It was a door just a bit to the left from the staircase.  Gigan motioned for the crew to stay silent.  She opened the door without flourish and all noise from the room disappeared.  It was for a moment, just a short moment, but Gigan became the conqueror, her expression hardened by atrocities and indomitable will, her mere presence a threat to those who would do her and her city wrong.  Jae-ha and the crew gathered around her.

            The inside of the large room was packed with men, many of whom carried stern glares and visible daggers.  It was difficult distinguishing one man from another, but Chan-mi was easy to see, sitting at the back of the room, dead center of the men’s gathering.  She was heavily injured.  She was in a different robe, had exchanged her plain blue one for a pale orange one, but Jae-ha could see spots of blood around the area of her left ribs.  Her right arm was in a sling.  Jae-ha knew he had done that to her.  Sickness and something he couldn’t bear to put a name to ( ** _pride_** ) swirled in his stomach.

            “Who the hell are they?” one of the thieves muttered to Chan-mi, his voice dripping with malice.

            “You said nobody knew we were ‘ere,” another objected, scowling.

            “Maybe they want in on the loot?” one offered, though Jae-ha couldn’t tell if the idea pissed him off or not.

            “Bunch’a assholes can get their own stuff, we ain’t sharing,” was the reply from another, definitely infuriated.  He stormed towards Gigan, the jingling noise of bagged coins accompanying his every step.  He pulled a dagger from a pouch on his belt, the steel shining nicely in the candlelight.  But before he could reach her, could grab her or so much as _breathe_ on her, Ming-ju stepped in and punched the thief square in the jaw, sending the other man sprawling on the ground.

            “Trust me, we don’t want anything you’ve got,” Ming-ju spat back.

            The fight began.  Jae-ha took a step back as Gigan stepped forward.  Fighters blocked her path, however, fists flying too fast for anyone to take notice of the elderly woman attempting to pass.  Through the cluster, though, Jae-ha could see Chan-mi stand up and begin her escape, running towards what appeared to be a door in the back of the room.  Gigan cursed under her breath.  She could see the problem, too.

            “Well, should’ve known it wouldn’t be easy,” Gigan grumbled.  “I’m going downstairs, going to try to cut Chan-mi off from outside,” she told Jae-ha.  Without taking the time to order her to follow him, Gigan rushed off.

            He couldn’t help but believe she would get there too late.  Chan-mi was injured, but she was younger.  She had direct access to the outside, to her escape route, while Gigan had to run down three flights of stairs and through the lobby and then find the back alley.  Chan-mi could be long-gone by then.  Jae-ha had to do something.  He had to stop her.  Even if it meant completely sacrificing his temporary peace.

            Jae-ha jumped.  Over the brawling men and woman, Jae-ha soared.  It was, truly, the freest he had ever been, abandoning fear in favor of showcasing his power.  Yet it was the most terrifying moment in his life.  Freedom always had to come at a price, didn’t it?

            ( _Sorry, Garou_.)

            Jae-ha landed gracefully at the back of the room, sunlight pouring through the door left open by Chan-mi.  Two thieves took notice of him, but he was quick to send them flying into the walls, showing no mercy for the bastards who had made Bo-young so crippled.

            Jae-ha ran through the door, from dim candlelight to the brightness of midday.  Chan-mi was barely halfway down the stairs.  It took him just a small (well, small by _his_ standards) jump to reach her, and he didn’t dare hesitate to grab her by her left shoulder and slam her into the wall.  She yelped.  He swallowed down the revulsion rising in his throat.

            “Where do you think you’re going?” he uttered.

            “Saving Awa,” she answered, the pain in her voice utterly tangible.  “Didn’t I tell you?”

            “Yeah, just as you stabbed me,” Jae-ha snapped.

            “Every righteous cause must have sacrifices,” she sneered.

            “How can it be righteous when so much misery happens?” Jae-ha growled.  “All you’re doing is running away from the right thing.”  The word _hypocrite_ rang in the back of his mind, but he ignored his conscience.

            “What the hell would you know?” Chan-mi barked.  “You smashed me into a wall and nearly broke my spine!  You’re trying to save Awa, too, aren’t ya?  Wouldn’t I have been a sacrifice?”

            Heat erupted in his gut, his stomach sinking into the flames.  “That’s — that was _different!”_ Jae-ha argued, failing to convince even himself.  “You were attacking me!”

            “And someone is attacking my city!” Bolstered by her anger, Chan-mi’s shout bordered on a scream.  Jae-ha’s ears rang with the pure strength of her emotions.  The belligerent air between them broke apart with the intricacies of her response.  His hand slipped off her shoulder.

            “…Who?” The question fell from Jae-ha’s lips.

            The edge in Chan-mi’s face disappeared.  Immediately, she was nothing more than a woman, her intentions unknown but her fear all too real.  She turned her head away from him.

            “Tell me,” he pleaded with a whisper.  “If you tell me, we can find a better way.”

            “Who’s we?” she hissed.  “You and me?”  She snorted.  “You and _Gigan_?”  Chan-mi’s nose scrunched up, as if the mere thought of Gigan reminded her of a terrible smell.  “Don’t make me laugh.”

            Chan-mi pushed him away.  The stairs were narrow, so he was quick to lose his footing.  He landed on his feet and jumped to return to his place on the steps, but Chan-mi had already reached the ground by then and was running faster than he thought should be possible with a broken arm and ribcage.

            But then there Gigan was, just in time.  She grabbed Chan-mi by the collar and shoved her against the wall, pinning her there with her throwing knives.

            “Tell me what you know!” Gigan shouted.  “Where did Lao come from?”

            In spite of the situation, Chan-mi laughed.  “It came from _here_ , your _perfect_ city.  After all this time, you think you can change human nature?”

            Gigan slapped her.  “Of course not,” she replied, suddenly much calmer, and all the scarier.  “There’s vileness inside everyone.  But those thieves of yours…”  Gigan grabbed Chan-mi by the hair, forcing eye contact, “…they’re not from Awa, are they?”

            The fear returned to Chan-mi’s face.  Yet still she furrowed her brows, forcing bravery.  It was as though she was the most unwilling participant in the game she had wrought.  “I’ll die before I tell you.”

            Gigan stared at her, unamused and unimpressed.  She sighed through her nose.  Releasing Chan-mi’s hair, Gigan took a step back and uttered just one, wholly authoritative, word: “Jae-ha.”

            With a jump and a kick, he knocked Chan-mi out.

* * *

 

The battle was a decisive win.  When Jae-ha and Gigan climbed the stairs back up to the third floor, in search of someone to carry Chan-mi back to base ( _wherever that was_ ), they found the room covered in the collapsed bodies of thieves.  A few of their allies were injured, though the worse wound by far was one man’s broken ankle.  Everyone was alive, thankfully, and Lian and Ming-ju were already working on patching up allies and enemies alike.

            There was a stinging in Jae-ha’s chest, telling him it was too easy.  The last time he had interacted with the illegal, it had been with Nuri and the papers-counterfeiting business.  Gigan and her men had won that time, as well, and Jae-ha had knocked Nuri out when the danger had come too close to Gigan.  But without the counterfeit papers, Nuri had lost his chance to see his true love before she died.

            What had these thieves lost?  What had Chan-mi sacrificed?  Jae-ha couldn’t help but wonder.  ( _“Every righteous cause has sacrifices_.”)

            Was what he was doing right?

            Min-ki calling his name carried Jae-ha from his thoughts.  It was then he noticed the blood seeping through his robe, spreading through the fabric like a fast-acting mold.  Red, liquid lines ran down his arm and over his thumb and palm and knuckles.  Bile rushed from his stomach, and just as quickly as he had to let it escape his mouth, he was in someone’s arms, gripping muscular arms with weakened hands.  His cheeks were wet.  His vision was swimming.  He couldn’t breathe.  He just wanted to _go home_ , away from this violence, this misery, this ceaseless anxiety.

            ( **But since when did he have a home?** )

            When he came to, he was in Gigan’s house.  He had been rested on his right side, facing the opened front door, his body taking in the sweet sea air and warm afternoon sun.  It took a while for his ears to register sound and his eyes to find the energy to focus on anything in particular.

            He was a weighted feather.  Empty of strength yet heavy with emotion.  Death itself, perhaps.  Jae-ha sighed and rolled onto his back.  His shoulder screamed.

            “I’m hungry,” he grumbled to the ceiling.

            “That’s good to hear.”  It was Gigan’s voice.

            “I feel terrible,” he muttered without bothering to look at her.

            Gigan sat on her knees beside him.  Her face hovered above his.  “That’s expected.”

            Jae-ha groaned.  His head was killing him.  “What happened?”

            Gigan’s face left his field of vision, but the fabric from her changshan tickled his bare arm, so he knew she was still there.  “Your wound re-opened.  You freaked out and threw up.  I think you made Byung-ho cry.”

            “When _isn’t_ he crying over something?”

            Gigan’s snort brought the smallest of sparks to Jae-ha’s heart.

            “Do you think you can get up?” Gigan asked.

            Jae-ha mulled over the question for a moment before answering, “Nope.”

            “That’s fine,” she replied.  “You need more rest.  I’ll be right back.”

            Gigan stood up and walked away.  When she returned, she guided him to prop his head up on two pillows.  She left again, then, only to bring back a warm cup of tea.  She held the rim to his lips and helped him drink it down.  Even though it nearly scalded his tongue and almost choked him with the taste, he was too thirsty to stop drinking until it was all gone.

            “What was that?  It was gross…” Jae-ha complained.

            “Family recipe.  It calms down the spirit,” Gigan answered.  He could’ve sworn he heard her mutter under her breath that if it was so gross, then why was he so eager to drink it?

            The phrase _family recipe_ was strange on Jae-ha’s ears, easy to understand yet wholly unfamiliar.  “Did you and your parents make the recipe?” he asked, curious to learn more.

            “My husband’s great-grandparents, actually.  They’ve been passing it down through the generations.”

            “…Wouldn’t you forget it if it’s so old?”

            Gigan shrugged.  “I’m sure it’s been changed a bit over time, but we memorize it so it won’t be forgotten.”

            “…Is stuff from your family that important?” Jae-ha whispered, finally moving his eyes to look at her.

            Gigan’s eyelids drooped and her lips wore the most desperately nostalgic smile he had ever seen on her.  “Incredibly important,” she whispered in return.

            “Captain can you… tell me about your husband?” Jae-ha asked, although hesitance gripped his every word.

            She sighed.  “I did promise you, didn’t I?”

            Jae-ha nodded.  Gigan told him, “My husband was in the navy of the Water Tribe.   He and I met while his crew was in Awa under Water General Joon-Gi’s orders to help the former Earth General build his own navy.  That was before King Il’s reign, though, so I figured it was just a passing interest.  But then King Il came to power and ordered a country-wide disarmament.  To my surprise, my husband came right back to Awa.  All for me.  We married not too long after.”

            Her smile was so sweet, Jae-ha almost couldn’t ask her to continue.  Yet he did, because he wanted answers.  “…And?”

            As expected, she frowned.  “Years later, some drug made its way into Awa from a nearby province.  By then, my husband had become a regular merchant, but just like me, he wanted to keep this city clean, so he helped me investigate the situation with me.  He had a new crew, as well.  They were just fishing buddies, but if you asked anyone, they knew his crew would’ve followed him out to war.  And, in the end… that’s exactly what they did.”  Gigan gulped audibly.  Her hands were trembling.  Jae-ha didn’t tell her to stop.  “It was a messy affair.  Next thing I knew, my husband was in the same situation Bo-young was, except…”

            He didn’t survive.

            Jae-ha forced himself to sit up.  “I’m sorry…” he mumbled.

            “It’s not like he died in vain.  We got rid of that poison, for good.”

            Jae-ha didn’t dare ask what she meant by that.  But he did dare to tell her something that had been gnawing at him since the day he met her, those few months ago, when his wrists were a burning red and his status was nothing more than that of a beggar.  It was only fair she knew, especially when he would have to leave soon.

            “When a Ryokuryuu is born, the power of the predecessor gradually moves to the successor.  And it always, always, costs his life… Usually the predecessor dies in three to four years, but mine…”  Heat welled in Jae-ha’s throat.  But he forced himself to go on.  “Mine lived for twelve years.  I hated him.  So much.  I-I-I think living for so long… made him greedy.  D-desperate.  He wanted his life and his power back.  Yet there I was, taking it all from him, one day at a time.”

            “Was he the one who put those chains on you?” Gigan questioned, as tranquil as the low tide.

            Jae-ha shook his head.  “That… that was the village.  He was just doing what the village told him to do.  A-always.  Ry-Ryokuryuu have to be kept on the ground, to protect the village.”

            Gigan was silent.  But when he looked at her, he could see the hatred flaring in her eyes.  The anger within him, the flame that was always seconds away from an inferno at the thought of his village — Gigan shared it, too.  He wanted to tell her everything.  He needed to.  Anything for someone who could understand.

            “I killed my mother.”

            Frost enveloped his spine when he said those words, a dread that dug deeper than the claws of winter.  The flame died from Gigan’s eyes, only for her expression to harden into her usual, unreadable face.  Oh, what had he done?

            “What happened?” she urged him to continue.  Unforgiving in the urge to know more, just like him.

            Jae-ha couldn’t look at her anymore.  The night he had met his mother, that memory was still fresh.  The wool blanket she had wrapped around his shoulders, the warmth she had offered, her fingers upon his skin — he could remember it all so clearly, as though it was a fresh cut.

            “I… I only met her once,” Jae-ha strained himself to say.  “She was—” he took a deep, shuddering breath, “—she was pregnant again.  I was going to have a, a little sibling.  B-b-but she was scared.  She didn’t want to have another Ryokuryuu.  I got mad.”  He could still remember the crazed hatred in his father’s eyes, Garou telling him it wasn’t his fault, the despair that swallowed him the moment he received the news.  It hurt so much to talk.  “The next morning, she… she committed suicide.  I killed her.”  And his unborn sibling.

            “Jae-ha.”  Gigan pinched his sleeve.  She looked him right in the eyes.  So effortlessly, she brought all his attention to her.  “You didn’t kill her.  Her weakness did.  You aren’t to blame.”

            “Y-yes I am,” he argued weakly.  With the palm of his right hand, he pushed against the tears forming in his eyes.  “I-I killed her.  A-and Garou.  He… he died, setting me free.  Just because I lived, he was dying.  A-and then—”

            Something inside him broke, the burden of his grief too heavy to carry.  He was falling.  But lithe arms encircled him, supporting him, bringing him close to Gigan.  She was holding him, despite his many ugly secrets.  Her touch was different.  It didn’t cause unwanted memories like Areum’s hug.  Nor did it make his skin burn like Ming-ju’s hand on his back.  A month ago, he would have flinched at the mere sight of her hand reaching for him.  But this time, he couldn’t resist the urge to hide his head in her chest, to cling onto her and her strength, to soak in all the warmth she offered.  She wasn’t a threat, not any more.

            “I never could have any children,” she admitted, voice just above a whisper.  “They all died before I could give birth to them.  But I was never lonely.  I had my husband, and I’ve always had my crew.  And now I have you.  Ever since I pulled you onto my ship, you’ve been like a son to me.”

            All she had for him was love.  Pure love.  So sweetly, it tore down all his walls, forbidding him to run and hide away again.  This was something he couldn’t escape.  And he didn’t want to.  He could only cry---and cry—and cry.  It was so merciful, this mix of despair and hope inside his chest.

            “Thank you,” he finally whispered when he could cry no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, uh, time to explain myself, I guess. In August, I went on a study abroad to Cuba for two weeks, and it’s been nothing but work and school ever since my return. About a month or so ago, I finally found the energy to start writing this chapter. I’m sorry if it seems... anti-climatic. The chapter was written purely in spurts and much longer than what I’m used to writing. So, uh, I wouldn’t be surprised if something like the build-up from previous chapters was completely lost. Sorry. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, regardless. As always, reviews and critiques are highly appreciated!


	14. Lost to Mistrust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, okay, so it’s definitely been over half a year since I last posted an update... i doubt anyone wants to hear my excuses, but I at least wanna promise to y’all that I never lost interest in this fic, it’s just that i lost the strength to do much of anything except exist for a good while.
> 
> The chapter number is 14.5 because I decided to cut the entire chapter in half. When the other half is done, I’ll combine the halves into one big old chapter 14.
> 
> also please read the previous chapter's notes for a summary of the characters.

_“It’s not your fault,” Garou swore.  “No matter what you think, this was not your fault.”_

The warmth Garou had offered at the news of Jeong’s death was gone.  As soon as Jae-ha had exhausted himself of screams and tears, Garou had released him, letting the boy fall to the ground.  His head ached from where it collided with the floor, but his stomach hurt more.  These sensations were all that kept him tethered to reality, that kept his mind from escaping into the emptiness that had devoured the rest of his body.  His eyes focused on Garou’s arm as he stretched out his hand, grabbed something, and then covered Jae-ha’s head with the blanket Jeong had gifted him.  It was the same thing Garou would do years and years ago, when Jae-ha was just a small child who wouldn’t calm down from nightmares until something was covering his head.

           “I’m not a kid anymore,” Jae-ha grumbled.

           “You’re eight.  Still a kid,” Garou grumbled back.

           Jae-ha pulled his knees to his chest, arms wrapped around his shins.  There was an unfamiliar scent attached to the cloth.  The scent of his mother, he guessed.  It was the closest thing he would ever have to her.  He would probably have to ask Garou to burn it next time they built a fire.  He didn’t see the point in holding onto that which hurt him.  He wasn’t like Garou, who never used his power to put down the people who tortured him so.

           Then, there was a punch.  Hard, heavy, dizzying.  Punch after punch after punch.  Stomach, head, chest.  Strong at first, yet gradually losing power.  There was no specific destination for these fists, just a singular goal: to let their owner lose himself to brief insanity.

           ( _Pitiful_.)

           Garou was screaming.  Jae-ha was twelve years old and both accustomed to Garou’s fits of madness and pained by the reality of a man who had lived too long.  It _hurt_ , like a fresh burn, restless and searing.  And that burn kept being renewed again, again, _again_.

           “Damn you!” Garou shouted, repeatedly, as though those were the only words he knew.  Something cracked.  Jae-ha wasn’t sure what.  He just held his breath, and waited.  Even when a knuckle landed on his eye, another on his lip, another on his ribs, another on his chin, another on his stomach — he wouldn’t cry.  If he waited, it would stop.

           And so it did.

           Garou looked like he wanted to cry.  From guilt.  The damned dragon blood told Jae-ha as much.

           “…Have you finished?”

* * *

 

 “Have you finished?”

           Jae-ha opened his eyes.  He wasn’t in the hut.  Nothing was holding him to a wall.  Garou wasn’t there.  Jae-ha closed his eyes again, searching for his predecessor.

           One white light.  Hakuryuu was far away, but he was where he always was, somewhere in the east.

           One blue light.  Seiryuu had moved.  He was so distant that his light just barely registered in Jae-ha’s mind.

           One yellow light.  Near.  Jae-ha couldn’t tell just _how_ close the Ouryuu was, he just knew that he could probably hunt down Ouryuu if he wanted to.

           No green light.  Jae-ha was all alone.

           “Captain!  Someone’s selling boar meat!  We _have_ to have some!”

           Oh, right.

           Jae-ha sat up.  He had been dreaming, taken on an unwelcomed trip into particularly difficult memories.

           “When will you finally get out of my head?” he mumbled, to a being he could only hope was at last enjoying freedom.

           He sighed.  No use thinking about it.  There were more pressing matters at hand.  Such as the way his stomach swirled, nauseous, from how terribly empty it was.  He planted his right hand on the ground and slowly brought himself to his feet.  The noise outside his door was enough to deter him from going on, but hunger pulled him forward.

           Gigan’s house was packed with brawny men, most of whom Jae-ha recognized from the fisherman crew.  Byung-ho was at the front of the crowd, eyes wide and pleading. For some reason, he was shirtless (not that Jae-ha minded).

           “C’mon, Captain, let us see him.  We’re worried,” Byung-ho explained.  The men behind him chimed in agreement.  “How about this?  I go buy some boar meat and you let me in.  ‘m sure Jae-ha’s starvin’ by now.”

           “I’ll help you clean up!” another man offered from somewhere in the crowd.

           “I can do some information gathering for you!” yet another man offered.

           Soon enough, the proposals were too numerous to keep track of, fishermen shouting over each other.  Jae-ha wasn’t sure what to think of the scene before him.  So many people were there just to see _him_ , the brat who had only been with them for no more than a few weeks.  But the sight of these grown men arguing, all begging their exasperated captain, was nothing short of amusing.  Before he knew it, Jae-ha was laughing softly.

           And, boy, did he regret it pretty quickly.  He wasn’t sure who it was that heard him, but soon everyone was looking at him, varying degrees of shock present in their eyes. Even Gigan appeared surprised. But then Byung-ho broke into a smile and the entire crowd was stumbling over themselves to run towards him. Jae-ha yelped and stepped back into his room, slamming the door shut in the face of the excited mob.

           “Hey!  C’mon, open the door!  We miss you!” Byung-ho shouted from the other side.  “We were super worried when you passed out like that!”

           “I’ll just pass out again if you act like that!” Jae-ha retorted.  “Calm down!” He was _way_ too hungry for this.

           Over the rumble of various voices, Gigan’s suddenly rang out.  Jae-ha couldn’t quite tell what she was saying, but soon enough the excited air dissipated.  He opened the door just a crack and peeked.  Soon enough, the number of bodies in front of his room lessened until there were none left, except for Gigan.  She was frowning, obviously annoyed.

           “Damn kids, the lot of them,” she mumbled, with barely a trace of venom in her voice.  Gigan turned her attention to Jae-ha.  “How are you doing?”

           “Hungry,” Jae-ha answered immediately.

           A small smirk reached Gigan’s lips.  “I’ll have the porridge ready soon.  Go sit.”

           Jae-ha opened the door and took a step towards the kitchen area.  But Gigan was quick to issue a warning noise and tell him to go sit on his futon. Jae-ha saw no point in arguing, so he did as told.

           His shoulder was burning.  It didn’t hurt as much as it had previously, but the discomfort was as pervasive as ever.  Luckily, he didn’t have to focus on it for too long, as Gigan returned with a bowl of piping hot porridge.  The smell was _fantastic_.

           “Stop drooling,” Gigan admonished, a lick of humor in her words.

           Jae-ha wiped his mouth with his sleeve. A quick glance revealed it was dry.  “Hey!  I wasn’t drooling.”

           Gigan snickered.  She scooped up a bit of porridge and blew on it, cooling it all too slowly for Jae-ha’s poor stomach.  “You look like you’re about to,” she replied when she finally held the spoon out to him.

           Jae-ha took the food in his mouth without a second thought.  “This is the best thing I have ever eaten,” he said, words muffled by the mush on his tongue.

           “No talking while eating,” Gigan scolded as she spooned up another serving.  “Besides hungry, though, how are you feeling?”

           Jae-ha took her next offering of food and swallowed quickly so he could answer.  “Better, I guess.  My shoulder doesn’t hurt as much anymore.”

           “That’s to be expected.”  Gigan held out a spoonful of porridge again and Jae-ha clamped his mouth over it.  “You were passed out for two days straight.”

           If he wasn’t starving, Jae-ha would’ve spit out the porridge.  “T-two days?!” he shouted instead.

           She nodded.  “We even managed to stitch up your shoulder wound while you were out and you barely stirred.  You sure know how to sleep.”

           Jae-ha swallowed his food.  He really didn’t like the idea of his skin being penetrated by needle and thread while he was unconscious.  He had already been through stitches while awake, and he certainly preferred that over what Gigan had done.  He could know what would be done with his body that way.

           “Stop glaring,” Gigan admonished.  “Just be glad you still have use of that arm.”

           ( _Eh…?_ )

           “We got a doctor after your wound re-opened,” Gigan began to explain.  “She told us that if Chan-mi had stabbed you just a smidgen lower, you would’ve lost total use of your arm.  And since we hadn’t stitched you up the first time, you got an infection, so you’re stuck here taking medicine until she gives us the clear.”  Gigan rubbed the bridge of her nose.  There was a familiar sadness in her eyes.  Jae-ha looked away.  “I should’ve had you treated the first time,” she mumbled.  “Guess I’m too used to runaways dying or disappearing.”

           Jae-ha’s throat ached with words he didn’t have the courage to say.  Instead he took the bowl of porridge from Gigan and settled it in his lap.  He could feed himself.

           The front door opened suddenly (though, for once, Jae-ha welcomed such an abrupt intrusion) and Byung-ho’s voice rang out. “I bought the boar meat, Captain!”

           “Calm down!” Gigan shouted back.

           Byung-ho strode into Jae-ha’s room with a proud grin and a bundle.  “The guy even cut it up for me,” he said, voice at a more acceptable level.  “Ain’t that nice?”  He sat, cross-legged, across from Jae-ha.  “‘ey buddy, how’re you feeling?”

           Like shit.  “Could be better,” Jae-ha answered.  He spooned up some porridge and tried his best to eat.  But his hand was shaking violently, as though his bones were slowly falling apart.

           “That a side effect of the doc’s medicine?” Byung-ho asked.

           “She mentioned it might happen…” Gigan muttered. She took back the bowl of porridge and fed Jae-ha again.

           His tongue was burning from the still-hot food, but it was worth it.  “What medicine?” he questioned after swallowing.

           “Doctor was worried you’d wake up in a lot of pain from the stitches, so she administered some heavy painkillers,” Gigan replied. “When you have more food in your stomach, we’ve got some more medicine for keeping off infections.”

           “…I’d rather not eat, then,” Jae-ha said, grimacing at the mere idea of _more_ medicine and what the side-effects could be.

           “The shaking in your hand won’t stop if you don’t eat,” Gigan quickly retorted.  She blew on another spoonful of porridge and held it out for him.  “You haven’t eaten in two days, brat.  Take care of yourself.”

           Jae-ha looked at Byung-ho.  The expression on his face was one of total worry and confusion. After a bit of consideration, Jae-ha relented and ate.

           “Uh… anywaaaaaaaaaayy,” Byung-ho interjected. “Let’s eat!”  He held up the bundle in his hands.

           Without pausing in her spoon-feeding ministrations, Gigan looked at Byung-ho with something akin to a glare.  “Why was he selling boar meat anyway?  He should be keeping it for his family to eat.”

           Byung-ho shrugged.  “He apparently got lucky and caught two grown boars at once.  Didn’t want the meat to go bad, so he sold some.”

           The two adults soon engaged in a series of questions and answers about how the seller went about his business.  How did he catch the boars?  Net trap.  How did he put the boars out of their misery?  Jae-ha didn’t understand Byung-ho’s answer, not that he _wanted_ to, because the explaining motions Byung-ho made with his hands were enough to evoke some sickening images.  Gigan asked a few more questions about the meat — something about curing it came up — but most of Byung-ho’s answers consisted in a shrug of his shoulders until, eventually, Gigan gave up.  By then, the bowl of porridge was almost empty.

           “Fine,” Gigan consented, “go get the plates.”

           Excited, he hurried to the kitchen and returned with plates and chopsticks in almost no time at all.  “You’re gonna _love_ this,” Byung-ho promised as he divided the entire bundle of meat between the three of them.

           Jae-ha stared at the resulting piles of meat. “I can’t eat all that…”

           Byung-ho guffawed.  “Nonsense!  You’re a growing boy!”

           “Aren’t you going to save any for your family?” Gigan asked, obviously put-off by Byung-ho’s eagerness.

           Byung-ho’s huge smile shrunk, his eyes widening at the same time.  He was at a loss.  If it weren’t for how little energy he had, Jae-ha would’ve laughed.  Instead, he watched as Gigan directed Byung-ho to empty her plate and to return half of Byung-ho’s share into the bundle.  Jae-ha would be sharing the last plate with Gigan.

           “Where would I be without you?” Byung-ho asked, smiling again.

           “In a lot of trouble,” Gigan answered curtly.

           Again, Gigan fed him.  The meat was _good_.  More flavor than fish could ever offer, with juice that swamped his mouth with every bite.  It was difficult to chew all the way through, but that just left more to enjoy.

           Byung-ho snorted.  “You should see the look on your face, Jae-ha!  It’s hilarious!”

           “I’ll admit, it’s pretty new,” Gigan added, a small smile gracing her features.

           “Shut up!” Jae-ha shouted through a full mouth. “The food’s really good!”

           The jovial mood continued through the rest of the meal.  Jae-ha almost wished the rest of the crew were with them, crowding the tiny space of his room, filling the air with their antics.  But he was pleased with Byung-ho’s rambunctiousness and Gigan’s light-hearted scolding.  Even when the food was gone and Gigan was making Jae-ha drink some vile medicine, there was a contentment that surrounded him.  As Gigan made him lie down, he knew he was smiling.

           “So, what’s the update on Chan-mi?” Byung-ho asked as he poured some saké for him and Gigan to share.

           “Still not talking,” Gigan grumbled, holding the saucer of saké to her lips but not drinking.  “Seems like she’s got one hell of a grudge.”

           “Against who?  You?” Byung-ho inquired, dumbfounded.

           “Either me or Awa,” Gigan said.

           Byung-ho scoffed.  “Who could have a grudge against _you_?”

           Gigan didn’t answer.

           “…Can I try?” Jae-ha offered.

           “Stop whispering, I can’t hear you,” Gigan chided.

           “He wants to try interrogating Chan-mi,” Byung-ho supplied.

           “Not in your current state,” Gigan said to Jae-ha.

           “…But she told me a lot when it was just us,” Jae-ha argued.

           Gigan was silent for a long moment before replying. “If she still isn’t talking by the time you’re better, then fine.”  Gigan sighed, long and low.  “I’m sorry I got you so involved in this.”

           As if he would’ve let her hold him down. “Too late to care about that.”

* * *

 

 True to her word, Gigan kept Jae-ha on bedrest. A doctor by the name of Hei-ran visited every day, poking and prodding and _sniffing_ the lesion upon his shoulder.  She would clean the stitches and make quick, nigh-incomprehensible comments about his recovery.  Luckily, Gigan was always there whenever Hei-ran visited, keeping off the worst of his nerves.  But nothing could assuage his embarrassment when Hei-ran would inspect his wrists—mainly white with vestiges of pink, nearly healed over—and would survey the scars that were strewn about his upper body.  She never said anything about them except for a solemn, “You’ve been through a lot, huh?”

           When neither Hei-ran nor Gigan were there, someone else usually was.  In the early morning hours, Areum was there.  Her cooking skills had yet to improve, but Jae-ha always looked forward to the breakfast she offered.  She never stayed to eat with him, but just exchanging pleasantries was fine.  In the time between breakfast and midday, Jae-ha would read.   _Tales of Ryokuryuu_ , the book Jae-ha had bought on his thirteenth birthday.  It had been gathering dust in the corner of his room, untouched since the day he had foolishly ran away for an entire month.  Much to his displeasure, he still had a lot of trouble reading it.  Not because the subject matter was difficult, but because the words were _so damn complicated_.  Every evening he had to ask Gigan to decipher what he couldn’t figure out on his own.

           (“Some of this is really basic stuff, Jae-ha. Tell me, do you at least know how to write?” Gigan asked him one night, frowning when he shook his head.)

           By midday, Jae-ha usually had visitors. Fishermen, people from Gigan’s information network, and sometimes people from shops Gigan frequented.  They always came in groups, carrying food or the occasional board game.  With the exception of the strangers (who never stayed for long, thank the gods), Jae-ha found himself welcoming their presence.  It was strange, having so many people willing to keep him company.  He was practically trapped in the walls of his room, kept in place not by fear of his existence but by the worry of others for his health.  Yet he was not left lonely, with only a single, gruff caretaker to talk to. Rather, there were people who wanted to feed him, wanted to make him laugh, wanted to be by his side.  Save for the occasional unwarranted, dizzying touch, it was pleasant.

           Until Seok-hee came to visit.

           Somehow, he managed to come alone.  No other people, no gifts or food, nothing accompanied him.  He was just there, a deceptively pleasant smile on his face.  Thinking about it, Jae-ha realized Seok-hee must have somehow left work early.

           “I hope I did not come here at a bad time,” he greeted.  His eye twitched, as it only ever did around Jae-ha.  “How are you feeling?”

           Jae-ha knew he could throw him out.  Seok-hee was annoying and obviously didn’t like Jae-ha, but he always obeyed the wishes of others.  All Jae-ha had to do was make an excuse.  He might even be able to convince Seok-hee to only visit when he had other people with him.

           But that wouldn’t accomplish anything. Seok-hee wouldn’t have come alone if there wasn’t something private to talk about.  He would corner Jae-ha one way or another.  What an irritating thought.

           “…Better, I guess.  Doctor says I’ll be free to do what I want soon,” Jae-ha answered.

           An emotion indiscernible passed along Seok-hee’s face.  His shoulders noticeably tensed.  “That’s good, that’s good,” he said.  What a fake.

           Jae-ha sighed.  Bastards who tried to hide their true intentions were such a hassle. “Seok-hee, I know you don’t like me,” Jae-ha grumbled.  “Drop the act.  What do you want?”

           In a moment, Seok-hee changed.  Kind to cruel.  Much like how Garou did, but _different_.  The damned dragon blood had made sure Jae-ha knew every detail of the unwillingness that followed Garou through every mood swing, every snap decision, every self-imposed isolation.  Seok-hee’s change was through choice.  That annoyingly courteous smile of his dropped into a grin just as fake but much more distressing.  In that moment, Jae-ha immediately understood how Seok-hee could have become such a notorious thief in Awa.

           “I was that obvious?” Seok-hee asked, laughing as he sat down beside the door. “I’ve always been bad at keeping a straight face when someone makes me nervous.”

           Nervous, huh?  “I’m not a threat,” Jae-ha muttered, not really sure if he could back up that claim.  “I’m a kid. You know Captain wouldn’t have let me stay if I was dangerous.”

           “Captain is the sentimental type,” Seok-hee calmly replied.  “We all saw you fall from the sky.  And when we dried you off, had to remove your clothes, we all saw that leg of yours. We tried our best not to think of what kind of horrible place you must’ve come from, where people skinned a lizard and stitched the scales onto a kid’s leg.  But something didn’t add up.”

           Jae-ha gulped.  Of course the rest of the crew had seen him on the fateful day.  Why did he ever fool himself into thinking it wouldn’t come back to haunt him?

           Seok-hee continued on.  “First, there was where you fell.  We were nowhere near a cliff where someone could’ve thrown or pushed you off.  You would have had to been dropped mid-air.  No bird out there is big enough to carry a person.  Second—” as he numbered his points, Seok-hee lifted a corresponding finger, “—there’s your hair.  Not only is it a rare color, but it perfectly matches those scales. Third…” Seok-hee’s eye twitched, “there’s what happened between you and Chan-mi.  When we found you, you had been stabbed but…” Seok-hee took in a deep breath and exhaled a rippling, suffering sigh, “…the wall near you had almost caved in. Only a strong man with a sledgehammer and a decent amount of stamina could have done that sort of damage. Moreover, when we captured Chan-mi, Nuri noticed that she has several broken ribs and a massive bruise on her back. Strangest of all, though, was the bruising on her stomach.  It almost looked like a foot.

           “It is mere speculation, but I believe Chan-mi was thrown into that wall, hard enough to make it almost cave in. Finally… there was the day we confronted Chan-mi and the fight broke out.  I saw you _fly_ , Jae-ha.”

           It was happening again.  This safe haven was being taken away from him again.  All because of his snap decisions, all in the name of ‘protecting’ that which was never his.  ( _Idiot_.)  Jae-ha wanted to scream.  He wanted to beg Seok-hee not to tell anyone, _please_ , _let him stay here_.  He wanted to deny it all, make a fool of himself if it meant he could stay for just a little longer, maybe even let himself entertain all those sad _what ifs’_ and wonder if Garou would have been just as happy in Awa as Jae-ha was.  The back of his throat ached.  He couldn’t speak, even if he wanted to.

           Seok-hee stared at him, perhaps awaiting a reaction. All Jae-ha could do was grasp the blanket that covered his legs, bottom lip between his teeth.  Several long moments passed between them, and when Jae-ha still could not respond, Seok-hee sighed, heavy, as if ruining Jae-ha’s life was such a burden.

           “You are not human, are you, Jae-ha?”

         “He’s plenty human.”

           It was Min-ki.  He stood behind Seok-hee, dulcet brown eyes glaring daggers at his crewmate.

           “You should know by now that he’s just a kid,” Min-ki said, scowling all the while.

           Seok-hee stood up.  As he did, Byung-ho appeared from behind Min-ki and slid past him to kneel in front of Jae-ha.

           “You should also know by now that he’s not human,” Seok-hee rebuked.

           At the same time, Byung-ho lifted his hands, fingers hovering close to Jae-ha’s cheeks.  “Gods above…” Byung-ho whispered.  His eyes were wide, and his breath was hot against Jae-ha’s skin. But then, suddenly, Byung-ho was glaring, his shoulders were tense, and he was screaming, hand balled into a fist that landed square on Seok-hee’s nose.

           “You bastard!” Byung-ho screeched to the fallen Seok-hee.  His fist turned into a pointing finger, directed at Jae-ha.  “You made the kid cry!”

           Jae-ha put a hand to his cheek.  Ah, so he had been crying.

           “You think I’m happy about that?!” Seok-hee asked, holding his bleeding nose.  “I didn’t hurt him!  I only came here for confirmation about what he is!”

           Min-ki leaned down and pulled Seok-hee up by the shirt.  “He’s one of _us_ ,” Min-ki hissed.  ( ** _Liar_**.) “He is our comrade, understood?”

           Seok-hee wrenched himself away from Min-ki and used the fabric of his shirt to soak up the blood from his nose.  “Which is why I believe we have the right to know what he is.”

           “Gods, you just don’t know how to listen, do ya?” Min-ki grumbled.  “We know what _you_ are, too.  A dirty thief without the courage to start over somewhere else.”

           “My _family’s_ here,” Seok-hee sputtered.  “Besides, I never wanted to be a thief.  It was the only way I could survive.”

           “You think _I_ want to be like this?!” Jae-ha finally screamed.  “You think I _wanted_ to be born a monster?!” He stood, fire burning in his gut, deranged and vengeful.  “I was put in chains my _entire life!_ I only managed to escape because my predecessor sacrificed himself for me!  I never wanted to be like this!”  The fire spread into Jae-ha’s heart, swelling with every hurried breath he took. Before he knew it, his feet were rushing him forward, his hand in a fist, and an oh-so-unsatisfying punch landed on Seok-hee, followed by another and another and another, just an aimless flurry of blows for the man who made him suffer.

           (So, this is how Garou had felt.)

           (It disgusted Jae-ha to his very core.)

           He stopped himself.  Took several steps back.  Tried his best not to look at the man he had hurt.  He breathed in deep, exhaled slowly.  He wasn’t going to be like Garou, he had sworn that to himself so many times.  An apology bubbled up in his throat, but he couldn’t bring himself to utter it. Instead, he told his audience the truth. “I am the Ryokuryuu.  Ever since Hiryuu’s time, the blood of the dragons has been passed from generation to generation, waiting for Hiryuu to return. But Hiryuu died long ago.  Our mere existence is pointless.”

           One of the three men whispered his name.  He decided not to attempt a response. Instead, he sat on his knees and bowed his head, as he had seen Garou do one too many times to appease the village elder.  “Please, don’t take this away from me.  I promise I won’t spread my curse here.  When the time is right, I’ll leave.”

           Jae-ha raised his head, studying the three men before him.  Min-ki and Byung-ho shared an expression of pure pity.  He was sure there were even tears in Byung-ho’s eyes.  Seok-hee, meanwhile, refused to look at Jae-ha. Even still, Jae-ha could see the knot between Seok-hee’s eyebrows and the frown that screamed regret.  Served him right.

           Jae-ha walked past the men, out of his room and Gigan’s house.  The crow’s nest could serve plenty well as a place to sleep that night.

* * *

 

Except sleep enjoyed eluding him.  Always at the worst of times.  It didn’t help that the crow’s nest was not nearly large enough to fit his body.  He could sit in it just fine, but lying down was another matter entirely.  His lower back ached at how he was curled up, yet he had no choice but to pull his knees closer to his body as the night’s wind blanketed him with cold air.  He had experienced _much_ worse chills, so this was not enough to make him give up, but it was certainly enough to make sleep undesirable.  Just to make matters worse, there was the damn moon.  White, shining blue, and in his eyes.  Part of its right side was consumed in black shadow, like a closed-mouth smile.  It taunted him.  Jae-ha found himself staring it down as the night passed.

            Jae-ha wasn’t sure when he did finally fall asleep, but he did know when he woke up.  Right at the beginning of dawn, when the moon was out of sight and a thick sliver of dark orange was seeping into the dark-blue of the sky.  Everything in Jae-ha’s sight was tinted a faint grey.

            But the encroaching sun was not what woke him.  No, it was the most handsome man Jae-ha had ever laid eyes on.  Black hair, brown eyes to match brown skin, and clothed in rich blues.  Min-ki.  He stood just outside the crow’s nest, presumably standing on the net that all the other crewmembers used to climb up.

            “Oh, there you are,” Min-ki greeted.  “We’ve been looking for you all night.”

            Jae-ha closed his eyes.  He was too tired to deal with this.  “Congrats.  You can sleep now.”

            He heard Min-ki sigh and pretended his shoulders didn’t tense at the sound.  “We were worried sick.  Captain almost collapsed while we were searching.”

            Jae-ha sat up at that, eyes wide open.  “Is she okay?”

            Min-ki offered him a lovely smile.  “Of course she is.  She’s just old, so she can’t stay out as long as us.  We made her go to bed.”

            Jae-ha pulled his knees to his chest.  Min-ki took it as an invitation to step into the crow’s nest.  Thankfully, he didn’t try to squeeze in next to Jae-ha.  Instead, he kept his distance, sitting on the edge of the crow’s nest, one hand gripping the mast.

            “She doesn’t know why you ran,” Min-ki said after long moments of silence.

            Jae-ha buried his face between his knees.

            “I didn’t want to tell her,” Min-ki continued.  He gazed steadily at his feet.  “I’m sure she already knows, um… _who_ you are, but it’s your job to talk about your, uh, problems.  Not mine.  And it’s Seok-hee’s job to be a man for once and face how he harmed you.”

            Except he didn’t _want_ to talk.  All it did was hurt.  It was an ache—deep, timeless, and searing.  He had only told Gigan, because he had been weak and she had yet to turn him away.  But she didn’t need to know _everything._

            “Mmhm… Seok-hee’s not too bruised up, either—” Min-ki kept talking, “—his cheek is swollen, that’s all.  You’re terrible at punching.”  Min-ki laughed meekly.

            Seok-hee’s status fell on indifferent ears.  The man could have been torn apart by crows, for all Jae-ha cared.  But, still, he guessed it was good to hear that Seok-hee wasn’t beaten into a bloody pulp like Bo-young had been at the beginning of this whole mess.

            More moments passed.  Min-ki tapped his left index finger in a hurried rhythm against the wood of the crow’s nest.  Min-ki also bit on his lower lip, face scrunched up as though his head was about to burst.  It wasn’t until the noise and that dumb look became too annoying that Jae-ha spoke up.

            “Are you okay?” he asked.

            Min-ki exhaled loudly, doubling over with the release.  “Finally, you talk!  I was so worried I had made you angry.”

            Jae-ha almost decided to go silent again, just to spite him.  But there was a peculiar gleam in Min-ki’s eyes, something that Jae-ha knew didn’t belong there.  He decided to ask, “Why would I be angry?”

            Min-ki sighed again, scratching his head.  “I don’t know.  I’ve always been terrible at comforting people.”

            Jae-ha turned his head towards Min-ki, resting his cheek against his knees.  “Well, this is the most I’ve _ever_ heard you talk.”

            Min-ki laughed heartily at that.  “I’ve never been good at talking.”

            “No wonder you’re always with Byung-ho, then,” Jae-ha replied.

            Min-ki nodded.  “Yeah, Byung-ho is great.  He knows people, way better than me.  I’m glad I found you, but I guess it would’ve been better if Byung-ho was here instead.”

            “No, I don’t mind you being here,” Jae-ha told him.  “You’re more attractive.”

            Min-ki was silent for a brief moment before snorting.  “Didn’t know you even cared about that kind of stuff.  Guess Captain’s been rubbing off on you.”

            “What does that mean?” Jae-ha asked.  “Captain doesn’t rub off anything on me.”

            “…Wow.  Wherever you came from, they weren’t good to you, were they?” Min-ki mumbled.  “It means that she’s been influencing you.  It’s good.”

            “It is?”

            Min-ki nodded.  “Captain is a great person.  Now that I think of it, you’ve changed for the better.”

            “I have?”

            Min-ki smiled, so heart-meltingly sweet.  “Yeah.  I’m no Byung-ho, but I’m observant.  You’re still as sullen as ever, but you’re different.  You aren’t as nervous around everyone like you were when you first came to work with us.  I bet if you were still the old you, you would’ve run away the second I found you.  Oh, and you smile more often, too.  It’s sad sometimes, sure, but more often than not, you seem…uh, content, I guess.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

            Jae-ha didn’t respond, too intrigued by these revelations.

            Min-ki took in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.  “Basically, I’m trying to tell you that you’re happier, Jae-ha.  You’ve healed.  Not enough, of course, but…” He fixed his gaze with Jae-ha’s.  “…The kid we pulled out of the ocean didn’t look like he could survive.  When Captain ordered us to search for a soaking wet, green-haired brat, I thought for certain we would find him dead someday.  We would start a search for his slavers, and he would end up just like all the other runaways.  Suicide, kidnapped, murdered, or dead by his injuries…  But then you came back.  Scared out of your mind, but willing to put up a fight, unlike all the ones before you.  And as time passed, I began seeing _you_.  The real you, the person underneath your scars.  I don’t what it is about you, Jae-ha, but something tells me you’re going to be someone magnificent.”

            Something welled up within Jae-ha’s chest, strong, warm, and poignant.  He desperately rubbed at his eyes, drying up the tears as they emerged.  There was no way in hell he was going to let Min-ki see him cry.

            But, of course, the handsome jerk just had to laugh, letting Jae-ha know that he definitely had seen.  Jae-ha brought his arm down to glare and make Min-ki _swear_ not to tell anyone, when they heard someone call Min-ki’s name.

            They both looked over the crow’s nest.  The morning sun illuminated the crew on the deck, and Jae-ha could clearly see Gigan, standing in front of the netting Min-ki had climbed up on.  A moment passed before Gigan seemed to see something and started scaling the net.

            “Oh, don’t come up!” Min-ki immediately hollered.  “We’re coming down now!”  He looked at Jae-ha, eyebrows uncharacteristically furrowed.  “She’s worried sick.  Don’t make her wait any longer,” he warned before beginning his slow descent down the net.  Jae-ha stood up, surveyed the deck for a clear landing spot, and jumped—

            ( _“You’re not human, are you, Jae-ha?”_ )

            —but he stopped himself.  In the time he had left in Awa, he had to be better at hiding.  Too many people knew.

            So he climbed down, just like Min-ki.

            When he reached the ground, Gigan was already engaged in conversation.  They spoke in hurried whispers, Gigan’s expression taut.  The rest of the crew was going about their daily business, some men retrieving fishing nets while others were opening the sails.  The only other person standing still was Byung-ho, who remained on the plank, back turned to Jae-ha.

            Seok-hee was nowhere to be found.

            Gigan and Min-ki finished their conversation, and she passed her kiseru to him.  She then strode towards Jae-ha.  He took a step back, ready to dodge any punishment she had ready for him.  Yet, instead, he found himself enveloped by her, one arm carefully wrapped around his shoulders while her free hand was entangled in his hair.

            “Where the hell were you?” Gigan hissed.

            Jae-ha took a deep breath, hoping he wasn’t shaking.  “I, uh… I had to think about s-some stuff.  Sorry.”

            Gigan released him, but kept a hand on his good shoulder.  “With the way the boys were acting, I thought you had been attacked.  What happened?”

            Jae-ha avoided her eyes.  “I-I’ll tell you later, okay?  Not here.”  He shrugged off her hand.  “Captain, I have a request.”

            Gigan sighed.  “What is it?”

            “I’d like to talk to Chan-mi.”

* * *

 

            Near the entrance to the town, there was a small shack, built by travelers who couldn’t afford a room at an inn.  Chan-mi was being kept there, in the tiny shack, tied to a chair by her waist and ankles.  In the dim light offered by the morning sun and a single candle, Jae-ha could see all the damage her endeavors had brought upon her.  A few blotches of dried blood dotted her robe, her cheeks were bruised, and her greasy hair fell over face like a tattered veil.

            “I was wondering if you’d ever come talk to me,” she said when he entered the shack.  Her attention shifted to Min-ki, who stood behind Jae-ha.  “Pretty boy,” she said to him, “I’m thirsty.”

            Min-ki shook his head.  “I’m not leaving you two alone.”

            “It’s okay,” Jae-ha said, stepping away from Min-ki.  “I can handle myself.”

            Min-ki stared at him.  Jae-ha forced himself to meet his gaze.  After a long while, Min-ki sighed and relented.  “I’ll be back soon,” he promised before turning around.

            As soon as Min-ki left, Chan-mi resolutely told Jae-ha, “You look like shit.”

            “You’re not much better,” Jae-ha retorted as he sat down.

            “Still…” Chan-mi replied, scratching the back of her head.  Although her hands were free, Jae-ha could see tread marks left by rope on her wrist.  “It’s been over a week since that little scuffle.  I figured you’d be resting.  The hell happened to you?”

            “I couldn’t sleep last night,” he answered.  “That’s all.”

            “Gods, you’re a terrible liar,” Chan-mi said, laughing bitterly.  “Well, whatever, it’s none of my business.  Let’s just hurry and get this over with.”

            “I hear you’re not answering anyone’s questions,” Jae-ha began.

            “And I hear you almost lost your arm because of me,” Chan-mi immediately quipped.  “But that’s old news, too.  So, nothing to talk about.  Go ahead and go home.”

            “…When did you get those bruises on your cheeks?” Jae-ha asked instead.

            Chan-mi laughed lamely at the question, the hint of a quiver on her bottom lip.  “Someone got impatient with me.  Gigan probably told him to rough me up.”

            “She wouldn’t do that!” Jae-ha quickly defended.

            “Oh?  Do you know that for certain?” Chan-mi asked, smiling impertinently.  “Then were you the one who told him to punch me?”

            “I had no idea you were even here,” he told her.

            The two of them lapsed into silence.  Jae-ha grumbled.  This was harder than he thought it would be.

            “Aww, are you angry I’m not playing along?” Chan-mi teased.

            “Why aren’t you?” Jae-ha quickly rejoined.  “I’m sure that once you answer, they’ll stop holding you here.”

            Chan-mi frowned, eyes narrow and teeth bare.  It was ugly and **familiar**.  Before Jae-ha knew it, his back was against the doorframe, and he swore her hair in the sunlight glowed an ethereal green.  Chan-mi’s expression melted into something neutral and unfamiliar, and the green disappeared.

            Chan-mi mumbled something incoherent.  She was angry.  About what, though, he couldn’t figure out.  Eventually, she spoke up.  “The place I’ll go after this won’t be any better.”

            Jae-ha drew his knees up to his chest, arms wrapped around his shins.  “What do you mean?”

            With the tips of her fingers, she rubbed the right side of her abdomen.  “Jail, of course.  It’s the only place Gigan would send me.  She could kill me, of course, but… She’s a weak woman.  She’ll never murder.  She’ll just put that duty on total strangers.”

            Jae-ha opened his mouth to demand an explanation, but Chan-mi continued on, no need for prompting.  “The guards here in Awa.  Drunkards and braggarts, the lot of them.  If I say a word to you, or Gigan, or anyone else… I’ll die.  They’ll hang me.  It’s the only punishment for criminals.”

            Jae-ha’s heart sunk.  Death?  That was too cruel, even for the likes of Chan-mi.

            “I’ll…!” Jae-ha shouted before he could think better of it.  “I’ll plead your case!  We—we can send you elsewhere!”  On his hands and knees, he crawled towards her.  “We’ll clean up your crimes and you won’t have to die!”

            She stared down at him, eyes wide, mouth open, arms crossed.  “You…” she whispered, then laughed softly.  “How did you manage to become so kind?”  She reached towards him and ruffled his hair.  He moved away from her as soon as she removed her hand.  “Ah, if only I was born thirty years later, maybe I wouldn’t have been so miserable.”

            Jae-ha stood up.  “What do you mean?” he asked.

            She smiled ruefully.  “I was born in the land of Xing.  Before the war, there were always skirmishes between Kouka and Xing—soldiers crossing the border illegally, arguments over trade routes, things like that.  My family was far from the border, so we never really worried about getting caught in the crossfire.  But, one day, men in Kouka armor came to our small town—” A coldness settled over her eyes, “—and took me.  Killed my brother before my eyes, separated me and my sisters.  I haven’t seen my family since.  I ended up here in Awa, where I was saved.”  A fragile smile grew on her lips, her eyes still cold.  “Jun-hwan, Gigan’s husband.  He and his men beat those slave-traders within an inch of their lives, and I was safe to go back home.”

            “Why didn’t you?” Jae-ha urged her to continue.

            Her face returned to a neutral state.  “There was nothing to return to.  Who knows what those slave-traders did to my town and my family?  I didn’t want to face that alone.  I wanted to find my sisters.  So, I stayed here.  I built connections with the help of my body and I followed the trail of the slave-traders.  I was so close to finding my eldest sister when—” She released a shuddering breath, “—when a darkness came over Awa.  Men pretending to be Koukan soldiers came to Awa and forced their wares to be sold all over town.  I ignored it.  But then my regular customers started having fits that were only calmed by some powder they would put in their drinks.  And then it wasn’t just my customers, it was my co-workers and my neighbors.

            “I went to Jun-hwan.  He always claimed to be just a regular merchant, but as soon as I told him my concerns, he promised me that he and his wife would help.  I don’t know everything that happened after that.  What I do know, though, is that a few weeks later, I went to visit him at his stall and… and it was destroyed.  The next day, I heard that he had died during the attack on his stall.  The people who had seen it had been too scared to step in, and Gigan hadn’t been there.  She _should’ve_ been there, someone _should’ve_ protected him.  Gigan kicked out the pretend-soldiers and took the drug off the streets, but it wasn’t enough to make up for what she did.”

            Chan-mi hung her head.  Jae-ha had no idea how to respond, so he just stood there, staring at the woman, tied up and living purely on a mistaken vendetta.

            “She really should’ve just killed them, don’t you think?” Chan-mi suddenly whispered.  “She could’ve made an example of those bastards, so no one else would come in and try to take over.”

            With her words, Jae-ha remembered what Gigan had told him—that Chan-mi had bought dong quai to poison the gang she had been the leader of.  “So that’s what you were going to do with those men?  Make an example of them?”

            Chan-mi sighed.  “That’s right, kid.  You’re smarter than I thought.”

            “But _why?_ You brought Lao to Awa, let those men beat up Bo-young, and you were just going to kill them in the end?”

            “Don’t make me take back the compliment,” Chan-mi grumbled.  “Think about it.”

            Jae-ha crouched, racking his mind for answers.  But nothing came up, nothing that made _sense_.  Eventually, Chan-mi groaned and took pity on him.

            “Here’s a hint,” she said, “those thieves weren’t my men.  I never ordered them to attack Bo-young.”

            “Then why were you with them when we went to capture you?” Jae-ha asked.

            Chan-mi rolled her eyes.  “We were going to make a compromise.  They wanted in on the Lao trade.”

            Something occurred to Jae-ha.  “Wait…”  It was just a hunch, but it was the first thing that made any sense to him in this whole debacle.  “The Lao, is it the same drug the led to Jun-hwan’s death?”

            Chan-mi’s lips contorted into a thin, misshapen line.  She nodded.

            “Did you bring it back to make Gigan angry?”

            Chan-mi shook her head.

            “Did it ever really leave Awa after Jun-hwan’s death?”

            Chan-mi shook her head.

            “So, you revived it…and the thieves wanted in on the trade, so they attacked someone who was selling Lao, and that person just happened to be Bo-young?”

            Chan-mi nodded.

            “You decided to bring them together to make a compromise, but you were planning on poisoning them with the dong quai, so you could make an example out of them… But why?  Is there something you’re trying to drive off?”

            Chan-mi nodded.  Then she told him the reason behind the entire mess— “A warlord is interested in Awa.  If I stake a claim with Lao, then it’s less likely that he’ll come here.  It’s the only way I could protect this city.”

            Jae-ha sat down, legs trembling as he brought them to his chest.  “So everything that happened, is because of a warlord?”  His injuries, the revelation of his secret, the loss of safety in the first place to bring him happiness… All because of someone whose name and face Jae-ha couldn’t possibly know.  “I should’ve left this city while I could…”

            “Eh?  I thought this was your home,” Chan-mi replied.  Jae-ha looked up at her, meeting her eyes.  “You’ve certainly protected it as if it were your home.”

            Maintaining eye contact, Jae-ha answered as best he could.  “It’s frustrating… I think I would like to make this my home.  But everytime I think it’s okay for me to stay, something happens, and I realize I have to run away.”

            Chan-mi scoffed.  “You know, after everything I had to go through because of you, I find it hard to believe that you’re such a coward.  You want to protect this place, don’t you?  Then stop running.”

            Jae-ha tightened his lips.  She was right.  It was so obvious that she was right.  He stood up again.  There were things he had to take care of.  “I’ll go talk to Gigan for you now,” he told her before leaving.

            Min-ki was standing outside the shack, leaning against a log wall adjacent to the door.  In his hands was a bowl of water.  He and Jae-ha shared a glance but said no words as they switched places, Jae-ha outside the shack with Min-ki inside, dealing with Chan-mi.

* * *

 

            Gigan wasn’t waiting for him when he returned to her house.  The day was still young—most likely, she was out making her rounds, delivering the day’s pay to her crewmembers.  He pretended it didn’t bother him.

            “She’ll be here later,” he whispered to himself.  He would have to steel himself without her, and that was fine.  He had been up against worse long before she came into his life.

            After applying the face whitener to his skin and salve to his injuries, he began his journey.  From behind Gigan’s house, where nobody could see him in the narrow alleyway, he jumped to the rooftops.  It was faster than walking and so, _so_ much nicer.  Nothing could compare to the sea breeze skimming along his face, tracing every detail of his countenance.  It was the freedom he had longer for, the power he had been cursed with, and the reminder that not everything was terrible.  He would have tried to catch a few birds, too, if he weren’t on a quest.

            Unsurprisingly, his target was difficult to find.  The man, despite his strange appearance, blended in well with crowds.  But, eventually, he caught sight of him.  The man was standing completely still in the middle of a bustling swarm of people, ignoring merchants that shouted his name, telling the damn thief to leave before they told the authorities or, even worse, Gigan.

            Jae-ha landed on a rooftop and slid down into an alleyway.  Forcing his legs not to shake, he ran forward, grabbed Seok-hee by the wrist, and dragged him away from the crowd.  For his credit, Seok-hee did not fight at all and, at a point, decided to lead the way.  They walked until they were far, far away from the noise of the marketplace.

            Seok-hee turned to face Jae-ha.  Oddly enough, he did not say anything.  Rather, he just stared, his expression completely unreadable.  Even stranger was the way he stood.  It was as though life had abandoned the thief.  His shoulders were relaxed, his hands hovered at his thighs, and his breathing was slow.  It would take Jae-ha many, many years to realize, at that moment in time, Seok-hee had given in and had been awaiting retribution.

            “I’m going to stay here!” Jae-ha shouted, hands clenched.  “And there’s nothing you can do to change that!”

            “I see,” Seok-hee replied.  “I’m glad to hear that, Jae-ha.”

            Jae-ha blinked.  This was not what he had been anticipating.  “ _What?_ ”

            The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.  “I’m sorry, Jae-ha, for what I said.  And I’m sorry it took so much for me to realize how terribly wrong I’ve been for a long, long time.”

            In an instant, he was furious.  Hands balled in fists, teeth clenched, Jae-ha wanted nothing more than to hurt this asshole again.  “What are you talking about?  Why now?!”  But as he talked, instead of anger came the warm sensation of tears down his cheeks.  “You… do you know what you did to me?!”  Jae-ha’s knees begged for collapse, but he remained standing, eyes fixed on his lifeless opponent.

            Seok-hee took a moment before responding.  “I—I don’t.”  He rubbed his brow.  “But after I heard your side, I, I remembered something.  During the two weeks you were gone, everytime someone asked about you on the ship, Captain would smile.  I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her so happy before.  Captain gave me a second chance… so I should do the same for you.”  Jae-ha attempted to interject then, but Seok-hee kept talking.  “I’m leaving Awa, Jae-ha.  I think I will try going to the Wind Tribe.  Nobody will know me there, and I’ll be far away from my past.  I really hope you will stay here, Jae-ha.  Captain needs you.”

            With that, Seok-hee turned around and left.  With that, Jae-ha collapsed and screamed.

            “I hate you!  Don’t you ever come back!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lao arc is finally over!!!!!! It took a l o t longer than I expected, so we'll be seeing some time skips in the next chapter, so I don't end up wasting too much time getting to the end of the story. As always, comments & critiques are super appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> And thus begins my self-indulgent, novel length fanfiction about Jae-ha & Gigan’s lives. Sorry if the chapter is too fast-paced! I’m kinda really bad at first chapters & I was excited to get this story started. I’ll probably end up coming back & editing it so it’ll be better -.-; Lemme know if it was bad in any way, please. Comments & critiques are super appreciated!


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